Crack, Break, Heal
by CercandoUnaVoce
Summary: Being a cop is a risky job, and being SWAT is even more. When Street has to learn this lesson the hard way, his team has to step up for him, pushing him hard to keep him feeling part of the family.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's note: _**_Okay, little premise: this story is set somewhere around midseason 2, and going on from there, without any particular tag to any episode, but always trying to respect the SWAT world.  
__I need to say that I have been planning, researching and writing this story for several months now, and maybe it's time for it to see the light, so I hope I can give you something._

_A last little thing before leave you to the story, ___t__hanks to my Beta Reader for the precious help!__

* * *

**.**

The old door slammed open as Luca smashed it with the battering ram. The ripple of the wood crackling and splintering resonated in his arms, fast reaching his elbows and making him want to abandon the heavy tool as soon as he could.  
The SWAT members rapidly penetrated while their gears protected them from the wooden splinters and the suffocating dust the breach liberated into the air.

The team was after two armed subjects hiding in that abandoned building for a while, and now they were finally able to break in and neutralize them.  
Tan was the first to get in, then Street and all the others behind them.

"Right side clear!" Tan yelled.

"Left side clear!" Street said loud and clear.

Entering, they found before them a large ramp of stairs which was the only access to the first floor. Its handrails were in wood marquetry and a blue carpet elegantly led up to the top of it. Even if those details were distracting, being so different from the rest of the house which indeed, was quite ordinary, they could not afford distractions. They had to focus on more important details; the creaking of the old floor, the consumed drapes slightly blowing and the footsteps left in the dirt were all signs of the subjects' passage that could lead the way directly to them.

"Give me a two!" Luca said, heading toward the stairs to check the first floor.

"Two!" Chris patted him on the shoulder and followed him upstairs while the others continued chasing the first subject on the ground floor.

As Deacon spotted the man's shadow, he promptly neutralized the threat, bashing him on the floor and stealing the gun from his hands. Then he got up, leaving Street to secure the man.

"Give me a two," Hondo said, continuing the search in the house.

"Two, two!" Tan made him feel his presence, following him.

The house had four rooms on the ground floor, one leading to the garage, and three more rooms upstairs. It should not have a garret, but they had to worry about the access to the roof. For sure, they could not let the guy hide up there, possibly shooting from the heights when they get out.

The search proceeded fast and clean. It was just routine for the 20 David squad, almost like a day of training for them, but suddenly, a gunshot sounded at full volume in the air.  
Hearing that, all the SWAT officers stopped and quickly turned toward the stairs where the sound came. The second subject was there with a smoking gun still in his hands and was now trying to run out from the building.

The SWAT members that were still on the ground floor had barely the time to acknowledge the man's presence that a second shot came, and they saw him falling and rolling to the feet of the front door.

Deacon looked up to found Chris pointing her gun down to the whining man. Then he saw Hondo rapidly passing him and securing their target. The subject's injuries were not life-threatening, Chris only hit him in the shoulder making him lose both his gun and his balance.

"Ground floor clear!" Tan yelled, getting back in the room.

"First floor clear!" Luca reached Chris on the stairs.

It all happened within a matter of seconds: the first shot, then the second, then the men falling; end of the story. But now Deacon's goose bumps told him it was not over.  
They quickly cleared the house and secured both the subjects, so why did Deacon feel something was amiss?

He saw Chris reacting immediately, followed by Hondo, and Tan's and Luca's voices reached his ears loud and clear. All happened in a flash.  
_ And Street?_ What was Street doing? Why didn't he made them feel his presence since before the shoot?  
Deacon looked down while the other's attention was still on the second shooter, and horror filled his mind.

"Officer down!" He yelled, ducking to check on Street who was now lying on the floor on the top of the first subject they arrested.

_Officer down_. At the sound of those two simple words the SWAT members all froze.  
Deacon's attention was all on his injured friend, but he could still feel the weight of the other's worried look on him.

"Oh my God, Street!" Chris jumped down the stairs and quickly reached for her friend while Tan took the arrested man away to give Deacon more space to act.

"Shot didn't penetrate," Deacon said relieved, carefully passing his hand under the vest on Street's sweated back.

Luca was watching the scene from up the first ramp of stairs. "How the hell did we miss the guy?" he asked, shocked.

"I don't know. I- " Chris babbled.

"Damn it! He's not breathing!" Deacon said, gently but rapidly freeing Street from his gears.  
His hands were shaking, and his heart stopped. He could bet all his teammates were feeling the same way, watching powerlessly at their motionless friend.

"Come on, come on," Hondo said in a low voice, clearly trying to control the impulse to hit in the face the man who did that to one of his men.

Chris carefully helped Deacon turn their unresponsive teammate on his back.  
Deac was ready to perform CPR on Street, but after a few endless seconds of complete silence, the young cop abruptly opened his eyes and gasped loudly.  
The damp air finally penetrated in Street's lungs again while a clear grimace of pain compared on his face. He tried to move, regaining control of his body after being unconscious for those few but long minutes.

"Oh, thank God!" Chris sighed in relief, helping him sit up.

"Hold up, hold up," Deacon said. "Breathe slowly."

Street looked around, visibly disoriented by all the commotion around him.

"Can you take a deep breath for me?" Chris said with a hand on his shoulder and the other on his wrist, trying to sense his pulse.

Street tried, but suddenly started to cough uncontrollably.

"It's okay; it's okay. Try to relax; it will pass soon," Deacon said in a reassuring tone.

"I'm..." He paused, still trying to catch his breath. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Hondo asked, staring at him.

Street slowly nodded.

"Alright, the house's clear, subjects under control, we're going out," Hondo said, making a sign to Tan and Chris to take the two arrested men out.  
Getting out, the two cops glanced back at Street who was still breathing heavily, then they crossed their looks, both trying to wipe out the big scare their teammate just gave them.

"Ready to move?" Hondo turned to Street, who was now laying against the wall. "Take your time; we have no rush," he reassured him.

"Yeah. No... let's go," Street whispered, out of breath. "I'm-" he made a move to get up, but he blocked quite soon while a grimace of pain appeared on his face again, and a small cry escaped from his mouth.

"Here." Deacon offered him his hand and helped him get in a straight position.

"I'm calling a bus," Hondo said, watching the scene.

"No! Please, there's no need..." Street somehow found the strength to object vigorously.

"You think you can walk?" Deacon asked, still maintaining his grip on him.

"I'm good." Street forced himself to make a couple of steps toward the exit. "See? There's nothing to worry about."

They all knew he was helplessly lying as he had to bite his tongue while saying that. However, they let him do, always keeping an eye on him.

"Yeah, oaky. But you are still going to the hospital for a complete checkup," Hondo stated.

"I told you, I'm-" Street tried to oppose, but Deacon blocked him before he could say anything more.

"A bulletproof vest doesn't protect you from internal damage," the older cop said, getting out the house. "And I surely know that as I had to pass through this when I got shot in the chest last year," he added, helping Street get in the car.

"I'll drive him." Luca jumped in, taking Deacon's place, his eyes insistently scanning Street's body.

**... ... ...**

The warm air penetrated in Street's nostrils bringing with it a distinctive smell of disinfectant and leaving in his mouth a strange taste of medicines. However, sitting uncomfortably on the table, he focused on breathing deeply to ease the fatigue he was experiencing.

The stark room didn't give Street much distractions, and he couldn't help but stare warily at the doctor. As the gray-haired man placed the x-ray on the little chalkboard and enlightened it, the slight but insistent buzzing coming from the tool made Street even more impatient.

"Alright officer, everything seems good," the doctor said. "But I'll put you on limited duty for the next couple of weeks," he looked straight at his patient.

"Two weeks?" Street complained. "But you just said I'm okay!"

"I'll interpreter this as you will not take my advice and take a couple of days off, am I right?"

"Yeah, no chance there, doc..." Street shrugged.

"I still strongly recommend that."

"Noted," Street unsuccessfully tried to hide a grimace of pain while getting up.

"Look at you. I can't clear you for active duty if you suffer like that just for sitting or getting up."

"You got a point there..." Street whined while trying to reach his t-shirt.

"Here, put this on." The doctor gave him an ice pack. "First thing the bump has to swallow down. And you can take a few painkillers if you need, but try not to overdo, okay?" he looked his patient in the eyes and waited till he confirmed his orders, then left the room.

As soon as he was there alone, Street took in a deep breath and with some difficulty lifted his t-shirt over his head to put it on.

"Whoa," Luca said, entering the room at that precise moment and finding Street's contused back right in front of his eyes. "That's a real bruise, man!"

"Yeah?" Street gritted his teeth, trying again hard to hide the pain he felt at every little movement.  
"I'm still up; it can't be that bad..."

"Hey, you can't underestimate this." Luca looked him straight.

"I'm not. I'm fine." Street said, serious. "I just meant that I'd seen worst." He managed to get dressed.

Luca let a little sigh escape from his mouth, probably realizing he was not exaggerating at all.

**... ... ...**

Back at the HQ, the whole team was eagerly waiting for Luca and Street to be back from the hospital. They tried to keep their mind busy by crushing the gym, but they constantly glanced at the door, hoping to see their teammates appear soon.

"Hey! How did it go?" Chris said as the two finally walked the corridor.

"I'm perfectly fine." Street hurried back without thinking.  
He wasn't, but growing up as he did, he learned very well how to hide the pain and the signs of the hits his father gave him, and so, he was well trained to lie like that.

Hondo skeptically turned to Luca for confirmation.

"He will be. The doctor cleared him, but only for a desk job."

"You're sure you don't need a day off?" Hondo asked.

"The doctor said I could work, and I will." Street said straight.  
"Don't worry! I'm fine; I promise," he insisted, feeling all his teammates' worried looks on him.

"Alright. See you tomorrow then, but take it easy, understood?" Hondo again turned to Luca to put him in charge of his friend's behavior.

"Yeah, I will..." Street said, waiting for his housemate to get his things and get ready to go home.

"Don't worry boss; I've got him." Luca nodded.

**... ... ...**

The night was already falling when Luca parked his car outside his home. The still warm air coming in from the open window caressed his face, blowing away all his negative thoughts.  
Luca turned off the engine and unbuckled his safety belt. Then he waited for Street to do the same, but instead, his friend just stood there, looking at the void.

"Hey, you alright?" Luca asked, putting a hand on Street's shoulder.

"Uh? Yeah, yeah, sorry." Street sighed. "I, um, I was lost in thought."

"_You_? Were _thinking_? Wow, that bullet hit you hard, didn't it?" Luca chuckled, opening his car door.

Street let out a smile, shaking his head. But that little movement caused him to hold his breath, so he huffed and turned to the opposite way to hide his soreness from his friend.  
"Let's go in now; would you?" The young cop bit the bullet and unleashed his seat belt.

"Here you go," Luca said, rushing to the other side of his car and opening the door for Street. "You sure you okay? Do you need any help?"

"Stop asking me that! I'm not a cripple! I can still get out of a car on my own."

"Hey, don't yell at me. I'm just trying to help here."

Street took a deep breath, trying not so successfully to hide his difficulties in making even the simplest gesture. "I'm- sorry. I had a pretty rough day, you know..."

"I was there, and it's been rough for me either." Luca clumsily took out his house key and got in.  
"And I'm the one who should apologize." He stopped, turning to Street. "I don't know how I could miss the guy. I'm sorry."

"Don't be so stupid, man!" Street walked in behind him. "Not everything in the world is your responsibility. It could have happened to anyone."

"But it happened to me, and it caused all this happening to you."

"That's water under the bridge; I'll be good." Street gently tapped Luca's upper chest with his fist, looking him with his goofy smile.

"Of course you will," Luca smiled back.

"Now let me pass through, it's probably better if I follow the doctor's orders and put this on," Street drew Luca's attention on the ice pack he was holding in his hand.

"You know what? I'm gonna fill the icebox, just in case," Luca stepped aside, clearing the way to Street's bedroom. "Something tells me that you will need more ice in the next few days."

"Yeah, thanks." Street said, slowly directing toward his room.

"Oh, hey! I'm ordering pizza," Luca opened the fridge and took out a couple of beers. "How do you want yours?"

"Um, yeah... thanks, but I think I'll pass this time." Street stopped and looked back at Luca. "I- I'm gonna go straight to bed, you know...  
"Maybe I'm not _that_ good." He forced out a smile, trying not to make his friend even more concerned.

"Oh, okay," Luca tried to hide his discomfort, with not much success.  
"Let me know if you need anything; I'll be right here."

"Thanks, man, appreciate that. I only need a night of good sleep."

As soon as he got in his room, Street closed the door behind him and immediately directed toward his bed. When he reached it, he sat there, not even able to change his clothes. Then he closed his eyes, trying to decide his next move.

Suddenly, the loud noise of the gunshot echoed in the darkness of his mind, and his eyes popped back open. He was sweating, and he had to concentrate to steady his breath.

Street lowered his head and stared at the icepack in his hands while his mind started to process what happened to him.  
He began to realize that if it weren't for his vest, this time, he would most surely be dead. If the bullet hit him a handful centimeters lower, or upper, he would most surely be dead.  
If it were not for his teammates, that quickly resolved the situation, guess what? He would most surely be dead.

_What a hell of a day it was... _he heavily abandoned his body on the mattress, but laying on his back was a big mistake.  
"Agh..." he let his pain out as the weight of his body pressed on his big bruise.

Street instinctively turned to his side with a sudden movement.  
Sudden movements were a big mistake too, and a giant wave of pain reached his brain, leaving him altogether out of strength.

_This is not going to work_, he thought, trying to take stock of the situation.  
He took in a deep breath, and clenched the ice pack in his hands to activate its refrigerating powers. Then he adjusted his position in bed, this time moving nice and easy till he was face down on the soft sheets.

Finally, before being able to gain his deserved rest, Street pushed the ice in position, to cover his wound. The cool sensation quickly spread through his back muscles and gave him some relief, allowing him to relax a little.

At that point he could only lay there, trying to hold off his thoughts.

**... ... ...**

A few hours passed, and Street still couldn't fall properly asleep. The ice pack was now completely warmed up, but he, however, stood completely motionless in his bed as every little movement caused him to feel electricity flow down his spine.

Listening to the sounds of the night the chaotic neighborhood had to offer, he felt his body abandoned as if his mind was not connected to it.  
He concentrated on those sounds. A dog was howling in the distance, but it was not Duke, a k9 don't howl to the full moon; the usual troubled kids were out in the small park, laughing and planning who knows what, suggesting him it was not that late in the night; and then there was the barely perceptible sound of the neighbor across the street yet again repainting his wall to wipe off the graffiti.

Street tried to slow his breath rate to keep the pain under control, but it arrived in waves and awakened him without warning, and every time it left him wondering when the next hit would come.

It was the middle of the night when Street fully awoke from his twilight sleep, feeling his whole body numb and his legs crawled.

_Great, now I even have to go,_ he thought, trying to understand the mixed sensations his body was transmitting to him.

It took him a bunch of minutes only to move to the edge of the bed and lift in a sitting position.  
Street slowly put his legs out, one after the other, with his bare feet touching the floor, or at least those were his intentions. He felt like he was fluctuating like his feet were dangling from the bed without really touching the floor.  
He knew falling on the ground was not an option in his current condition, so he instinctively reached out for the light switch to make sure he wouldn't limp on something.

That was his third strike.

He let out a gasp as acute pain invaded his body once again. He held his breath till the wave passed, then recollected his strength to get up finally.  
_Why do I keep forgetting to move slow?_

Once he acknowledged he wasn't stepping on anything, he could get on his feet.  
_Alright, let's go_. He painfully got up, feeling unsure if his legs were going to sustain him.  
_Oh God, I'm not going to be able to work in the morning_, he thought, trying to start moving.

"Okay," he muttered, moving his first step. _Maybe a little trip to the bathroom is not such a bad idea. At least it will help awaken my legs._  
Slowly advancing, he let a little growling slip through.  
"Come on, Jim, one step at a time," he said to himself. And moving a few short steps, he kept carefully watching where he was putting his feet because he couldn't feel them touching the floor.

Suddenly, Street started feeling warm. "Oh, man! Are you kidding me now?" he muttered, looking down to see the yellow liquid descending on his legs, soaking his pants and forming a puddle at his bare feet.

_Oh... I'd better hurry to clean up this mess. _He concentrated on moving on, praying that Luca would not be still up to see him in those conditions.  
_ Oh, no, no, no... he would make fun of me for life! _he thought completely embarrassed, trying to not think about how that could happen without warning.

Street moved another step toward the door, slightly limping, but eventually succeeding in staying on his feet. Then he tried to push one step more, but this time, his legs definitively gave way under him, and he suddenly found himself on the ground, having the reflexes barely to put his hands in front of his face to minimize the impact on the floor.

Now he stopped feeling numb.  
Street tried to get up, but his muscles didn't obey his will.

He actually stopped feeling anything.

Street was confused, not being able to find a good explanation for what was happening to him.  
_ The doctor said I was fine. He said he found anything on the x-ray. How can all this happen to me now?_ He wanted to look around, but his movements were slowed down.

He was completely lost and overwhelmed by all kind of emotions. His mind was paralyzed right as his body was.  
Street tried to take in deep breaths, but his body couldn't do even that. He knew he had to clear his mind, to make up a plan to get himself out of that situation, but now he couldn't think clearly.

_Never move a victim with a spinal injury, _he recalled from the basic first aid training every cop like him had to attend.  
_Victim... _I _am the victim here, _he painfully acknowledged.

_Okay, I'll stay still then..._ Street ordered himself. _Not that I would be able to move anyway, _he had to admit.

Now, laid on the cold floor, he hoped Luca was still up.  
Street prayed his friend heard the thud of his fall and could come there to help him. But nothing. There was no sign of life through his door, and no one came.

"Luca!" he recalled all his strength and let his voice out as high as he could. "Luca! I need your help!" He tried again, but his tone was not high enough.  
He was short of breath, and his voice came out so weak and soft that it was impossible for anyone outside that room to hear it.

"Please... Luca... please. I need you..." Street almost cried, exhausted, abandoned there with the cold slowly reaching his heart.

**.**

* * *

**_Author's note:_**_ Thank you for reading this first step!_

_I've been putting so much energy in this project, and I've been writing this story for so long that, when episode 2.16 aired, I thought, oh, they just slid in the show the same idea I had? Well, the same premise for the injury at least, and even if it was for another character and with a completely different storyline, I guessed I have some feeling with the show writers... this is kind of funny, I think. Does it means I'm getting good in reading the writers' minds?_

_Well, anyway, I'm gonna go straight on my way on this. I think I'll be able to be back in a couple of weeks (sorry for the wait, although the show used to skip weeks too, right? )._


	2. Chapter 2

The heavy silence of the late night resonated in Street's room, getting hard to bear. And even if his eyes by then had to get used to the darkness that wounded him, Street would wince every time a shadow seemed to move around him.

_Come on Jim; you're not a kid; you can't be afraid of the dark. Not anymore, _he fought to control his nerves, breathing heavily.

Street could not tell how much time had passed since he was laying there, tasting the dust of his bedroom's cold floor. The only thing he knew was that he was alone.

He would scream, and he would cry, but he could not do even that.

The young cop knew he should not move, but he couldn't stay there like that anymore; he couldn't keep waiting for Luca to wake up and find him.  
He had to do something because his mind was going to dark places, and he didn't know how to stop it. So, he concentrated on a solution, trying to put the fear aside.

_The door is not so distant, but there's no chance I can reach the handle and open it._ Street slowly turned his head toward his bed table. _Okay, so I need to reach my phone._

His arms started crawling on the ground, his hands trying to hold on something to find the strength to drag his paralyzed body to his goal.  
His nails scratched the floor while he began to turn back to the way he came.

Street winced, electricity flawing down his spine; he held his breath; he overcame an inch; he panted. And all over again, and again, portending to his phone while every single little muscle contracting provoked his body to send his brain all kind of alarms.

"Okay, Jim, you can do this. Come on," the SWAT officer muttered as soon as he was in the right direction.  
He needed to reach his goal soon.

But it didn't happen.  
Every centimeter he succeeded in overcoming left him out of strength, and Street had to pause to catch his breath every slight movement he made.

Then exhaustion got him, and he couldn't move anymore.  
The cop was less than two meters from the bed table, when he had to stop for good and rethink the situation. _Oh, man, there's no chance I'm gonna reach the top of it and grab my phone..._

_I'm so screwed!_

Carefully listening to his body in the complete silence of the dark, Street felt like he was split in two. His lower limbs were deadly quiet, and there was no mean of making them cooperate. The upper half of his body, instead, had tried everything in its power and was now yelling loud, begging him not to ask himself anything more.

A burning sensation was spreading right from the center of Street's spine to his entire back. He had goose bumps on his arms, but at the same time, his shirt was soaked in sweat. Street could feel the acrid smell penetrating his nostrils, the uncomfortable sensation of the cloth sticking to his skin and his stomach area wet as he was splashing around in a puddle of his urine.

Then he surrendered, leaving space for the fear to take control on him.

_I can't..._

His thoughts echoed in the desolation of his mind and his will faded. Now, Street could only wait that someone would come looking for him.

**... ... ...**

The natural pallor of the morning sun entering from the windows lighted the corridor, underlining Luca's way toward Street's bedroom.

"Hey, Street!" Luca's fist hit loudly on his friend's door. "It's time to go! Are you coming or what?"

His knocks resounded in the corridor, but Luca heard no answer coming from the inside of the room. So, he put his ear on the solid wood, trying to sense if there was movement in there. "Street? Are you awake?" he insisted.

_Maybe he decided to take the day off at the end; _the blond cop tried to convince himself that he just overheard his friend snorting. Then he moved the first step away, but Duke's insistent scratches on the door made him suddenly change mind.

"Help... _please_..." Street's feeble voice barely reached Luca's ears.

"Street? Are you okay in there?" His concern shining through from his voice, Luca tried again from outside the door, not sure if he really heard what he thought he did, but once again he could hear no response coming through.

"Okay, I'm coming in!" he said, taking the handle in a firm grip and carefully pushing the door open.

As soon as the blond cop put his nose in, a pungent smell came to him. The room was stuffy like a men's locker room, or even a public restroom. The weak morning sun-rays coming from the half-open blind well enlightened the empty bed, but left the rest of the room in the twilight zone.

"Street!" Luca yelled, suddenly seeing his friend laying prone on the floor.

"I need help..." Million little drips covered Street's forehead while he continued repeating those few words under his breath. "Help... please, help me..."

"I'm here; I'm here!" Luca rushed to his side and knelt by him. "Come on, Street, talk to me! What happened?" He cautiously rested his hand on his friend upper back, making him feel his presence.

"I can't-" Street forced his voice out, barely able to say those words out loud. "I can't move my legs."

"_What_?" Luca ducked more to meet his friend's terrified look. "The doctor said you were good. I heard that."

"I don't know. I can't move." Street controlled his tone, but the marks on his cheeks were clear.

Concern grew in Luca while he stared at his friend's lost expression, his confused voice reaching his ears, his concerned look reaching his heart.

"It's okay. Just tell me what happened here, C'mon." The older cop hocked to stay calm for his younger friend.

"Alright..." Street took a deep breath. "Um... I-I got up... from... the bed-" he bubbled. "Um... I was, I was walking, and then I wasn't anymore."

"Why didn't you call me instead of getting up from the bed?"

"I didn't think that it-" Street shut his eyes, while a frustration grunt escaped from his dry mouth.  
"I was just trying to reach the bathroom and... oh, oh Gosh!" He closed his eyes, and a little grimace of shame appeared on his face. "I never got to the bathroom..." he whispered. "I'm, I'm so sorry... I-I..."

"Hey, hey, don't worry about that right now, okay?" the senoir SWAT officer said, watching down at his friend's dirty pants, and the sight of the young man in those poor conditions hit him hard.

"It's alright." Once again, Luca forced his tone to be as reassuring as he could. "Let me just call an ambulance; it all will be alright."

The blond cop took his phone out. "Officer Luca, I need an ambulance at ..."  
While giving the first responders all the information they needed to find them fast, he continued to watch his friend in the eyes to keep him calm.

Luca watched Street shutting his eyes, and hardly trying to keep his breath steady, and could do nothing more than just be there for him.  
"Don't worry man, the ambulance will be here in no time," he said, hanging up his phone. "You have to hold on just a little bit more, alright?"

"Yeah. Okay. " Street kept his eyes well closed, his tone a little calmer.

The senior SWAT Officer obliged his mouth to disclose in a warm smile and tried to keep it while inspecting his friend's body. He saw the hair on Street's arms standing up, and his own did the same, as out of the alliance.

Luca gently rested a hand on Street's upper arm, making him wince, and felt his body heat dissipating fast, absorbed by his friend's shivering limbs.  
"Jeez, but you're freezing!"

"I'm-" Street started to say under his breath, the steam marking the ground.

"Don't worry, I got you," Luca jumped up and got away from him.

"Wait! Don't. Where..." Street's voice grew acute for panic.

"I'm here," the blond cop was shortly back to him. "I'm here, don't worry. I just had to take this." He put a blanket on his friend's cold body. "Isn't it better?" He smiled at him.

"Yeah, thanks..." Street closed his eyes again as the shame colored his pale face in red. "I'm sorry, it's... I should really not panic so easily..."

"Hey, don't worry." Once again one of Luca's best smiles was there for him.  
"Now relax, I'll stay here with you till the help comes." He set next to his friend on the floor. "You don't have to worry about anything. I got you, buddy."

"O-okay..." Street reluctantly said, barely able to look at his friend. "That's-that's sounds a good plan..."

**... ... ...**

The light of the raised sun made its way into the bedroom, now well enlightening Street's motionless body. The blanket covered him till his shoulders, raising slowly every time he let the stuffy air filling his lungs.

Luca's strong presence beside him reassured Street only a bit. At least, he was not alone anymore, but the fear was still eating him out.  
He tried hard to stay focused on the present, but his mind would go on and on, finding all the possible outcomes for that awful situation.

At some point, won by all that angst, Street felt his throat closing and a weight compressing his chest.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Luca said fully alarmed, getting closer to his pale friend.

"I can't... catch... my... breath..." He heavily panted.

"It's okay. Hang on; the ambulance will be here soon." Luca moved to watch him in the eyes and put his hand on his shoulders, feeling his body lifting and lowering frantically.

"Mmm..." Street laboriously swallowed as a bitter taste of bile filled his mouth. "I-I think I'm gonna be sick..."

"Whoa, whoa, that's not a great idea right now, don't you think?"

"Uhm-uh." Street slightly nodded, trying again to kick away the bad taste.

"Okay, so you just have to relax and concentrate on your breath; the feeling will go away, I promise." Luca kept his tone as calm and reassuring as he could.

Street tried to take in a deep breath, but his chest kept hurting, and his vision blurred. The tingly feeling expanding in his arms made his panic rise and his throat close more at the thought of losing his arms too.  
Instead of going away, the sickness increased, leaving him gagging and loudly gasping for fresh air.

"Hey, hey! Slow down, buddy; slow down." Luca kept gently pressing on his friend's shoulder.

Street tried hard to swallow everything back while spit leaked from his mouth. "I ca-can't, I can't..." he whispered, at a loss.

"You're hyperventilating, that's it. It's not good, and that's why you're feeling so sick. You have to slow down."

"I..." Street continued panting, "I can't..."

"Just close your eyes and concentrate on my voice."

Street could feel Luca's warm hand printed on his upper back.

"I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere," the blond cop added as his friend would not let him out of his sight.

"O-ok..." He started slowing his breath a little.

"Good, just like that. Relax. Follow my voice." Luca kept his tone firm but warm.

"Breath in-" he waited a few seconds, "And out."

"In-" the senior SWAT officer kept dictating the rhythm.

"Out..." He continued guiding his friend's breathing until he could finally steady his respiratory rate.

"Feel better?" Luca's warm voice kept Street hooked to reality.

The young cop slowly nodded, his eyes still closed and his hand still shaking. Then Luca kindly used the corner of the blanket to wipe Street's mouth.

"Thanks..." he whispered, now even unable to turn red.

"No problem, bud; no problem." Luca forced out a smile, the relief the crisis passed clear in his eyes.

**... ... ...**

Sitting on the ground and waiting patiently, the grave sound of his friend's breath echoed in Luca's ears while the hot steam leaving Street's mouth left its stain on the cold floor.

"EMTs!" A stranger's voice came to them. "Are you in there?"

"Yes, we're here!" Luca called out, jumping to his feet.

"You heard that?" He turned back to Street, the most reassuring look on his face. "They're here. You don't have to worry anymore."

"Can you tell us what happened?" The brown-haired paramedic asked Luca, while his younger colleague started checking on Street.

"He got shot in the back yesterday afternoon, but he had his vest on; he had a check-up, and the doctors cleared him," Luca explained in one breath.

"Alright, step back now, and let us do our job," the paramedic said to him, then he turned his attention on Street. "My name is Mitch, and this is my colleague, Dale." He ducked next to his patient.  
Glancing at his colleague's expression, Mitch immediately understood from his dark eyes the seriousness of the situation. "We're here to help you; what's your name?" he continued, calmly, his blue eyes now meeting Street's.

"I'm..." Street laboriously swallowed. "Jim," his voice came out so weak that they could barely hear his reply.

"How are you feeling, Jim?"

"I can't feel anything from the waist down..."

The broken voice that came out of Street's mouth as he answered all those questions made Luca's blood freeze in his veins.

"Let me take a look," Mitch said, knelt by him. "When did you lost your sensation?"

"Don't, don't know... a few hours ago. It happened quite suddenly, but..."

They all watched him attentively, sharpening their ears as his voice was weak.

"I was feeling numb for a while before that..." Street admitted.

"Wait, how long have you been here like this?" Luca couldn't hold back his concern.

"And when did that start?" The paramedic asked, ignoring the blond cop.

"I think-" Street fought to force his voice out, "not so long after I went to bed."

"_What_?" Luca lost control for a split second.  
_Damn it! Why didn't he call me sooner?_ He thought, his stomach cramping.

"So about, let's say, six to eight hours?" Mitch went on with his questions.

"Uh-um," Street confirmed.

Luca's heart clenched at the thought of his friend laying there for that long.  
He could feel his terror, his pain, and his humiliation. He could only imagine how the loneliness could have consumed the young cop while desperately seeking for help, and he instead, was quietly sleeping in the next room.

"Alright, we're going to put you on the back-board. Are you ready?" The brown-haired paramedic said, taking the blanket off his body.

"Wait, don't..." Street tried to object, flushing as the strangers took a look on his whole body for the first time.

"Don't worry about that. It happens all the time," Mitch reassured him, glancing down at his soiled pants, then gently lifted his t-shirt to see the conditions of his back.  
"Okay," the paramedic held back a gasp as he saw purple and blue covering a large part of his patient's back.

_Oh Gosh, it wasn't that bad yesterday! How is it even possible?_ Luca thought, a shiver running down his spine.

"Luca, right?" The younger paramedic called for his attention, making him look away from that shocking sight. "Come here. We'll need your help to roll him to the spinal-board."

"Whatever he needs." Luca promptly knelt next to his friend. "What do I have to do?"

"You put your hands right here," Mitch guided the cop's hands on Street's shoulders. "When I tell you, we gently roll him on his back. We move all at once, paying extra attention to not let his spine go out of alignment, understood?"

Luca nodded, then looked down to his friend, supportive.  
He saw Street wince as Mitch put his hands on his sides, stomach area, then he watched young Dale put his hands on his patient's pelvis, but this time the cop didn't react a bit.

"Ready?" Mitch said, glancing at Luca. "One, two, three."

Luca kept watching his friend closely while they carefully rolled him. He knew that Street was trying to suck it up, but he, however, heard him whining as they lifted him and put him on the stretcher.

Street expression gave it all out. It was like Luca could read his mind. At that moment, the senior SWAT officer felt so powerless and helpless; all made worse by the awareness that what he was feeling was nothing compared to what Street must felt. His friend was experiencing the same pain and fear he was, but all multiplied by one hundred, and he could do nothing for him.

"We're done; let's go." The senior paramedic secured the straps around his patient. "Very carefully," he added, making a sign to his young colleague who promptly started pushing the stretcher.

"Can I help?" Luca offered, totally uncomfortable about doing nothing.

"We got him. Stay back," Mitch said as Luca followed them out his apartment.

"We're taking him at the St. Hope Medical Center. You can meet him there," Dale said, helping his colleague loading their patient in the ambulance.

"I'm not gonna leave him alone," Luca firmly protested.

The two paramedics looked at each other then nodded to him in unison. "Okay, you can come, but stay at your place, understood?"

Luca nodded, promptly jumping in the back of the ambulance with Street.

**... ... ...**

The cold morning air and the warm sunrays caressed Street's skin as the paramedics pushed the stretcher along the courtyard.

He concentrated on taking in a breath of fresh air, and his eyes got lost in the sky. The young cop tried to impress that in his brain before the caretakers loaded him into the truck where he would only have the vehicle ceiling to stare at.

A smell of sulfur and chemicals invested Street as he was secured inside, making breathing harder.

He winced as the loud sound of the ambulance doors closing reached his ears, his mind associating it with a shoot and increasing the tightness in the chest.  
Now Street was confined in, and the straps constraining his body to the stretcher did nothing but enhance the sense of claustrophobia he was experiencing.

Dale kept silently caring for him, putting on his mouth an oxygen mask. That gave him some relief, but was not enough to keep him calm.

"Oh, come on!" Street broke the heavy silence as the patience abandoned him. "Why is no one telling me what's happening?"

Luca looked at the EMT sat next to him with a scared glare.

"Will I be able to walk ever again? I need to know..." the young cop temporarily lowered the mask to his chin.

"Hey, don't jump to conclusions," Luca tried to reassure him.

"Why are you not saying anything? I'm not gonna be back on my feet! Are you afraid of saying that?" Street pulse raised, his muscles tensing. "Will I? I have the right to-"

"Spinal injuries are unpredictable," Dale interrupted him, putting the oxygen mask back in its place. "We can't know what exactly is going on until you undergo a full examination.  
"But don't worry about that right now, positive thinking always helps."

_Really?_ Street closed his eyes, trying to shake off the fear.

"Are you going with that crap?" he glared at him. "That's not very encouraging..." he whispered, closing his eyes back.

"It's all gonna be alright. I believe that," Luca jumped in, more to convince himself than his friend. "I'm not letting you alone in this."

"Yeah..." Street whispered, his lower lips mentioning a tremble under the plastic mask.

"Hey... you want me to call your mom?" Luca said out of the blue. "Oh, wait, I can't... We left your phone at home."

"No!" Street made a hint of a move, only to feel a strong wave of pain hit him.

"Hey, no! No! You have to stay still." The paramedic controlled the straps that tightened him to the stretcher.

"Sorry, I didn't mean." Luca apologized, hoping he didn't cause any further damage. "You don't want me to call her then?

"No, please..." Street whispered, looking away, then took off the mask again. "The situation with here is...just..."

Luca nodded at him, a supportive look on his face.

"I don't want to think about that right now, please." Street looked up, trying to breathe deeply from the mask.

"Okay. But I still need to call Hondo to explain to him why I'm not at the HQ right now."

"Do you?" The injured cop's voice came out weak.

"And I'm sure the whole team will want to be there for you," Luca continued, serious.

"Oh, please... there's no need for them to see me like _this_..." The sorrow was clear in Street's tone now. "Do you have to tell them the truth?"

"Hey, don't you remember what happened the last time you lied to him?" The blond cop looked him straight. "I don't want that to happen to me!"

"Yeah... sorry. Don't want to cause you any trouble..." Street shut his eyes, his heart still pounding, while his trembling hand put the mask back in place.

"It's enough guys," Dale interrupted them. "You need to rest now, Jim. We're almost there."

**... ... ...**

Soft, yellow lights wounded Luca's figure aimlessly walking around inside the waiting room. The SWAT squad rushed toward the white hallways, breathing with their mouths to not let that hospital smell get to their stomachs.

"Luca!" Hondo and the others reached their teammate. "What happened? Where is he?"

"I don't know guys. He-he's having some tests done." Luca sighed, his face pale. "He was-"

"Officers," a grizzled doctor interrupted him. "I'm doctor Bell-"

"So? How is he?" They instantaneously asked, rounding him.

"We found a crack in officer Street's T6 vertebrae-" The doctor's calm tone was in plain contrast with his words.

"Whoa, his spine is fractured?" Luca harshly interrupted him, his voice full of disbelief. "But he was standing! And walking! How did you discharge him saying he was fine?"

"Didn't you run an x-ray yesterday? How could you miss that?" Chris jumped in, letting her hunger slip through.

"It's a tiny fracture, and it was composed, so nearly impossible to spot it in the first CT scan. But now it's margins slightly moved, and that caused bleeding and accumulation of fluids around his spinal cord."

While those words echoed in their minds, the cops all looked at the doctor, lips pursed, and waiting for a good _but_ to rekindle their hopes.

"The formed hematoma is pressing against his nerves, and that's what is causing the paralysis," the doctor continued, and the _good but _did not arrive.

"Wait, paralysis?" Chris' eyebrow scrunched together, and she turned to Luca who had no time to tell them the full story.

The SWAT members searched for each other's eyes, holding on to the hope that one of them had some comforting light in them. But none had, and they turned back staring at the doctor.

"That can also be due to a spinal shock; in that case it will resolve in a matter of hours or days at most." The doctor looked out in the hallway, while the confused voice of the speaker drew his attention.

_Few hours and he will be okay._ As the doctor's words reached their brain sounding like that, they felt they could breathe again.

"So you can fix him, right?" Chris asked, moving as she had ants in her uniform.

"We always prefer a conservative approach, and if the MRI confirms the nerves weren't damaged, we will only continue with painkillers, bed rest, and ice packs. Then we'll start with physiotherapy and-"

"Wait," Chris interrupted again, getting on his tiptoes. "_If_ his nerves are not damaged?"

_This is serious then_. The SWAT members stood there, lips pursed once again, the heavy sound of each other's breath reaching their estranged ears.

"As I already said, your colleague is having all the proper tests done. We'll see."

"But if his nerves are damaged you can do something, right?" Tan asked as the others were wordless.

"We can intervene to reduce the pressure and prevent further damage, but if his spinal cord is already compromised-"

_Don't say it. Don't say it._ The cop's eyes begged the grizzled man as the silent raised.

"He will have to live with that."

Their world collapsed. He said _it_. He did.

"Someone will let you know when you can see him." Doctor Bell nodded, encouraging, and headed out.

"Thanks, doctor," Hondo said, looking around to his hopeless teammates.

There could be heard a pin drop as no one would admit out loud the possibility of their friend being permanently paralyzed.

"Someone must tell Street's mother what's going on." Deacon was the first to have the courage to open his mouth.

"No," Luca quickly said. "He made clear he doesn't want that."

"That feels wrong..." Deacon said. "If something happens to me I would like my family to know immediately."

"Well, his family is already here, and clearly, you don't know Street's mother," Chris said.

"True," Deacon said. "But I think she still needs to know."

"He does not need her drama right now!" Chris tone grew harsh. "He is too vulnerable for us handing him over to her."

"I know you guys are not fans of her, but-" Deacon looked at Hondo and Chris.

"You're right, I'm not a fan, but I agree with you. She should know-" Hondo sighed.

"We can't call her without his permission," Luca interrupted them, supported by Chris' grave look.

"That's why we're going to respect Street and let him call her when he's ready." Hondo finished.

"Fair enough," Deacon said.

After a moment, he turned to Luca and handed him a bag. "Hey, these are your gears. If we get a call you may need them."

"No way! We can't leave him here alone," Luca strongly objected, his hand closing and his bicep contracting, feeling the weight of the thing put in his hand. "Not till we know something."

"As much as I hate that idea too, if we get a call we'll do," Hondo stated. "We're on duty, Luca, and we're already a man down; we can't do other than that."

"And that's why I'm here." Commander Hicks entered the room, preventing the words _a man down_ to resonate in the SWAT officers' mind for long.  
"Captain Cortez will cover for me on the field, and the rest I can do from here," he continued. "I'll take care of Street till you can come back to him."

"Come back? We have a call already?" Deacon raised his eyebrows.

"Hostage situation, downtown LA. Mumford's team just got there, but the situation immediately got crazy. They need your backup ASAP." He looked them straight. "Come on. You must go now."

"You heard the man. Let's go!" Hondo ordered, making his men the sign to get out of the room.

"Go, I'll let you know as soon as they tell me something," Hicks assured them noticing they would not leave.

**... ... ...**

* * *

**_Author's note:_**_ Thank you for your patience on this, and thanks to all who took a little time to review the previous chapter.  
Also, again thanks to my Beta for the continuous support.  
_

_Not much action in this chapter, I know, but here I needed to put the light on the emotional part. I hope I succeeded in that. _  
_I may need to say the kind of injury I gave Street has multiple aspects to consider and every case is different, so yes, I did a ton of research, but I'm also improvising a bit._


	3. Chapter 3

The waiting room was now deserted, and Hick's typing on his laptop was the only sound filling the sterile air.  
Now and then, the croaky speaker voice would claim the Commander's attention, and he would look around, hoping someone could have a good word on his injured man.

"Are you here for Officer Street?" A young nurse interrupted Hicks' computer work.

"Yes," he answered, quickly collecting his things and following her out of the waiting room.

"We are preparing him for surgery, but you can briefly see him if you want to," she said, showing him the way.

"Surgery? What happened to the conservative approach?" Hicks eyebrows scrunched together, and he loosened the grip on the things he had in his hands, almost scattering them on the ground.

"The MRI showed that the compression on your Officer's spinal cord is greater than expected. With an immediate intervention, the chance of a complete recovery will considerably increase."

"Is he-" Hicks stopped right outside the room, blown away by those words and not knowing how to face his man in those conditions.

"We will sedate him soon, but yes, he is awake for now," the nurse kindly replied, finishing off his sentence.

"Thanks." Hicks nodded to her, then he took a deep breath. "Can I come in?" he said, sneaking his head in the stark room only to find before him the young cop immobilized to the bed, with his eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Commander? Yes..." Street turned his head for what he was allowed to and looked at him. "I'm sorry, y-you should not see me like this... I-I-" he started to babble.

"I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed before-"

"Before they insert a big needle in my back and suck clotted blood from it?" Street started looking up again, a hint of a tear forming in the corner of his eye. "Yeah, thanks, but I can't see what else would I need." His harsh tone tried to cover for his fear.

"All right boy, if you want to play like this..." Hicks sighed. "But I promised Hondo to keep an eye on you till he comes back; you won't get rid of me that easy."

"I-I didn't mean..." Street tried to apologize, not knowing where to look to not make his Commander see his distress.

The young cop clenched the sheets in his hands, concentrating on the physical pain that laying down on his back caused him to not think about the psychological side of the matter.

Hicks nodded at him, reassuring, and approached his bed.

"Wait, so Hondo was here? Also, where's Luca? Did he left?"

"Oh, I had to send them on a call," Hicks said. "But don't worry, though, they will be back here very soon; they are only on backup duty."

"I'm not worried they don't come... I'm worried that they do," Street said under his breath, getting lost in thought.

"Sorry, what?" Hicks stared at him with a small smirk on his face. "I thought you already left behind your problems on the 'we are a big family' thing?"

"Jeez, this situation is surreal..." Street cut the discussion short. Then he closed his eyes, still trying to figure out what to do with his new condition, and tried to breathe normally.  
"What-" Street cleared his voice. "What do you know? I-I mean, what did the doctors tell you?"

"Not much. They say we have to wait, that only time will tell, and things like that. However, I'm sure you don't have to worry."

"Yeah..." Street's eyes filled with tears that he tried to hold back with all he had.  
"You all say that, but..." -now he had to look away and lower his voice- " I feel you don't believe your words..."

"I-I don't-" the young cop paused, looking away from the Commander again, down to his paralyzed body.  
"I don't know if... If I..." He couldn't finish his sentence, saying that out loud was just too painful.

"Hey, listen to me very carefully, son," Hicks forced his man to look him straight. "I know how hard you worked to get your spot back on the team. You don't have to tell me that."

"Yeah..." Street's voice came out broken.

"You are not losing it now, all right?" Hicks continued. "If the doctors say that you need time to see what happens, time is exactly what I will give you. Don't worry about that. You just have to take care of yourself right now."

"T-Thanks..." Street whispered, exhausted. "I needed to hear that." His voice sounded feeble and distant.

At that moment, two nurses approached Street's bed. "The OR is ready; it's time to go."

"Don't worry, I'm gonna be right here when they take you back," Hicks said, moving a chair to the corner of the room.

"You don't have to do that..." Street weakly objected.

"I'm gonna work from here," the Commander insisted, settling in.

"Relax now," one of the nurses kindly said while the other injected a mild sedative in Street's IV, then they both started pushing his bed out the room.

"This will all end very soon." The two women kept smiling at their patient.

Street closed his eyes, trying to obey, but his mind wouldn't shut down.

_What if I won't be able to be SWAT anymore? What if I have to leave my Family? _Street could not stop thinking about all the most terrible outcomes. _That's not right; it's not fair!_

_Oh God!_ His eyes popped up open, admitting the worst case scenario.  
_What if I will never be able to walk again? _

Street's heart was still pounding, but the nurses didn't stop smiling and reassuring him till the sedative kicked in, and he finally calmed down.

**... ... ...**

The sun was high in the sky, and its rays slammed down on the concrete, making the heat come up as punches in the cops faces.  
When Hondo's team arrived at their destination, they promptly reached Cortez at the mobile command center.

"How is Street?" she immediately asked, fearing to guess the answer from Hondo's prim face.

"Stable," Hondo slightly shook his head.  
"Let's keep our heads in the game, alright?" He glanced toward his teammates to make sure they were ready to work; then he turned back to the Captain. "What's the situation here?"

"Munford's team is preparing the breach. I need you to cover the back entrance, in case the subjects decide to sneak out from there."

"You heard the Captain; let's go!" Hondo ordered, leading the way. "Deac, Tan, you take the left side. Chris, Luca, you're with me to the right."

"Roger that," Deacon said, heading to his position, followed by Tan.

The building was a relatively new trade complex. The main entrance was clean, bright and well cared, in contrast to its back which was rubbish and smelled like feet.

"Luca!" Hondo said in a firm, but low voice, noticing his teammate seemed a little lost. "Luca are you with us?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm here," Luca said, not able to sustain his boss' look for long.

"You have to stay focused; we can't afford to lose someone else today."

Luca shook his head, in the attempt to kick away the image of Street laying on the floor of his room.

"Hey, I know what you're thinking, but we can't go there right now," Chris said to him. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get back to _him_."

The SWAT members got their mind back in the game just in time before an armed man rushed out of the building dragging along a screaming lady.

"Metro SWAT!" they all started yelling. "Put your weapon down!"

Moreover, Hondo and the others distracted the man, so Deacon could quickly neutralize him from the back, and they could save the hostage unharmed.

"You're safe now." Chris pulled the lady to her and took her to safety, while Luca and Tan kept watching the door in case someone else would try to get through.

_"All clear,"_ Hondo's radio sounded, _"all subjects in custody, and all hostages safe."_

"Good job guys," Cortez coldly said as Hondo's team approached her, the look on her face not resonating with her words.

"Are we done here?" Luca asked impertinently.

"Jessica?" Hondo called her by her first name, noticing her worried expression while watching her phone. "What happened?"

"Hicks texted me." She looked up to them, talking with a serious tone and making them all frown. "Street is in surgery right now."

"_What_? Surgery?" Terror appeared in Chris' eyes. "But they said-"

"The damages were more serious than expected," Cortez explained, trying to keep everybody calm.

"More serious how?" Luca gave voice to all their concern.

"Don't know, but you should go there," the Capitan said. "But, Hondo, if there is another call..."

"Of course," Hondo nodded at her. "We'll be right where you need us."

"Go now!" She ordered, her brown eyes letting her apprehension shine through despite all her effort to keep her cool.

**... ... ...**

The atmosphere in Black Betty could be cut with a knife. The cops' looks were off, their eyes low and their lips locked.

"_It_ should not have happened!" Luca abruptly interrupted the heavy silence.

All his teammates sighed, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"I should not have missed the man," Luca continued. "I should not let him take the shot."

"There were two of us up there," Chris painfully admitted. "I missed the guy too..." she bit her tongue, frustrated with herself.

"Stop it! Both of you," Hondo intervened. "There were six of us in that house, that could have happened to anyone. It's part of the job, and you did nothing wrong. Understood?"

"Understood?" he repeated as no one said a single word in response.

"If he isn't able to walk again, I'll never forgive myself," Luca said while trying to drive them back to the hospital as fast as he could.

The thought of their young teammate forced on a wheelchair for the rest of his life made their hearts clench.

"Hey! Don't even go there!" Hondo firmly said. "We don't know anything yet. Just trust the doctors."

With those words in their ears, they all started praying and hoping for the best as the silence became deafening again.

So, then they were there, parking Black Betty and ready to get in to be with their friend.

"Okay guys," Hondo stopped them. "This is not going to be easy for him, and we all know how he reacts when he's put on the ropes."

"Yeah," Chris looked up, trying hard to keep her cool. "We'll need a lot of patience with him."

"If he pushes us out, we push him back harder," Hondo continued. "We have to be strong for him, whatever the prognosis will be."

They all nodded, appealing to every little resource from their training to not let their emotions take control. Those words, _whatever the prognosis would_ _be,_ echoed in their ears making their blood run cold.

**... ... ...**

The SWAT squad full force entered the hospital walls, and the smell of bleach was the first thing that came to them. Taking in deep breaths with their mouth to get accustomed to that, they headed to the reception to be addressed to their teammate's room.

The kind nurse guided them in the right direction through the crowded hallway, and when they arrived there, they sneaked in as quietly as possible; they didn't want to bother their sleeping friend.

"Any news?" Luca asked to Hicks, keeping his voice as low as he could.

"They took him back in only a few minutes ago," the Commander said, glancing at the bed.

Street was laying there, eyes shut, with the monitors he was connected to beeping regularly in the background. He was on a nasal cannula to help him with his oxygen levels, and they could see his torso lifting at every breath under a showy brace.

"Is everything all right?" Luca continued, approaching his friend's bed. "What did they say?"

"They said it all went well, and they insisted we can only wait and see." Hicks tried to keep his tone low and composed.

"You don't have to whisper, guys. I'm not sleeping." Street's sore and weak voice drew their attention, sounding like from hell.

"Hey there," Chris immediately approached him, kindly taking his hand. "How are you doing?"

"How was the call?" Street cleverly dodged the question.

"It-" Chris muttered, a little blown away by his words, while all the cops looked at each other, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

"Routine," Tan jumped in the conversation. "We were the best, as usual." He smiled.

"Of course you were..." Street said, not able to sustain his friend's looks for long, and silence filled the room again.  
"Oh, come on guys, you don't have to look at me like that..." he cleared his throat, "I-"

Then doctor Bell entered, interrupting him. "Good, you're all here."

Street whined trying to move into a more lifted position only to remember that he couldn't.

"I have your permission to talk in front of them?" the doctor asked.

"Of course," Chris shot back, answering in Street's place, and stepped away from the bed to better see the grizzled man.

"You heard the lady..." Street reluctantly said. "Not that I could make them go anyway, so, go ahead." Fear appeared in his eyes even though he was trying to dissimulate it.

Doctor Bell nodded, holding Street's chart firmly in his hands. "Good news first, your spine is stable, and the fracture will eventually consolidate. You should not have any further problems from it."

"Okay, that _is_ a good news," Luca said, enthusiastically hinting Street that he should smile, but he still wasn't.

"This, though," -the grizzled man pointed at the thing his patient was wearing over his gown- "will be your best friend for a while. You'll have to wear it 24/7 till I say so."

"What is that?" Luca asked.

"It's called a three-point brace." The doctor checked on the correct position of the thing, while the helpless Street could only stare at his hands fiddling.

"It will help to keep the column straight and sustain the back muscles in their tasks, thanks to his three pushing points." He lowered for a moment Street covers, drawing the cops' attention on his sternum and pelvis where the first two aluminum supports were placed.

Then doctor Bell turned to his patient, "I'm afraid the third pressure point, the one on your back, will be a little more uncomfortable to stand for you, given to your injury. Well, at least until the bump swells down and the bruise expires."

Street exhaled loudly, his hands clenching the covers the grizzled man just put back in place. Seeing all that, Luca's heart clenched, and he tried to smile supportive at his friend.

"But painkillers will help you a lot," the doctor continued.

"Go back; till the bump swells down? Didn't you operate on him to do exactly that?" Hicks intervened, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, we reduced the hematoma substantially-"

"But?" Street harshly interrupted the doctor, making all the team members hold their breath. "There must be a _but_, right? Or this time I should have my sensations back!"

"But," the doctor calmly continued, "it is still there, and the pressure on your nerves is still not completely resolved."

"So what are you gonna do about that?" Luca asked.

"Waiting is the best course of action right now. We'll apply ice for the next 48 hours to prevent the hematoma from reforming, then we'll pass to worm packages to dissipate the swelling from the surrounding tissues."

"So you are basically doing nothing?" Chris objected.

"Am I-" Street sniffed, looking first down to his legs then directly to the doctor, concentrating hard just to make his voice come out straight. "Am I ever gonna walk again?"

And there it was, the question they all wanted to ask, but no one had the courage to. The atmosphere in the room instantaneously grew cold with the SWAT officers all holding their breath.

"We will start with a light mobilization within a week," Doctor Bell stated.

Relived expressions appeared on the cops faces, but Street didn't take the bait and held on to his solemn gaze.

"And if everything goes as planned," the doctor continued, "we are confident that you'll, eventually, get all your normal functions back." The grizzled man put on his best reassuring expression, still maintaining a severe tone.  
"But I won't lie to you, this is gonna be a very long journey."

"Oh, C'mon! _If_, _eventually_ and _confident_?" Luca raised his tone.

"Yes," doctor Bell nodded, still keeping his tone calm. "As I said, we can only wait till the situation resolves on itself. Only then we will see what the actual damage will be."

"_Actual damage_?" Luca went on echoing the doctor's words, always in a too loud voice. "What the hell does that mean? Are you actually sure of anything?"

"Luca," Deacon shook his head, making him look at how Street was reacting to all those information.  
The young cop's face was ghost white, his look lost and his hands were shaking. On top of that, Street was fighting hard to breathe normally, and the beeping in the background became more insistent.

"Thanks, doctor," Hondo nodded at him, his eyes not getting off his injured team member.

"Rest and positive thinking are the best medicine right now," the doctor said, putting down his patient's chart.

"T-thank-" Street cleared his voice, sniffing back the incoming tears. "Thank you, doctor Bell," he barely managed to say, watching him leaving of the room.

"Hey," Chris took his cold hand in hers again, a not-too-convinced smile printed on her face. "I'm sure it'll all be perfectly fine."

"Yeah," Tan confirmed, "you'll see. Look, I know patience is not one of your best qualities, but it's all gonna resolve soon," he unsuccessfully tried to relieve the oppressive atmosphere that had created.

Street loudly exhaled, his bottom lip trembling, and fighting hard to control his nerves.

"We are here for you," Hondo stepped in, peering directly in Street's brown eyes. "Whatever you need, we're here."

"Thanks, I-" the young cop glanced up the ceiling, not able to sustain his friends' looks anymore. "I know, and... and I appreciate that, but-" he made Chris lose her grasp on his hand, crossing his arms on his chest only to remember the doctor told him not to.

They all still gazed him; they knew that _but_ meant he was starting to close in himself.

"Y-you should really go now," Street finished, his voice getting all crackly while he rested his arms again on the bed.

"We just got here," Chris objected. "You are not kicking us out."

"No, i-it's just... I'm tired, that's all. Please..." Street forced himself to look every single one of his teammates in the eyes, trying his best to unsheathe a convincing look.  
"And you are on duty, you surely have better things to do than watch me sleep, right?"

They all looked up to Hondo, waiting for him to say something.

"The kid is right," Hondo firmly said. "The doctor ordered him to rest, and for once that he wants to follow orders, who are we to prevent him do that?"

"Okay," Luca reluctantly said, "but at the end of the shift I'll be back, you can count on that."

Street collected all his strength to force out a smile and properly greet his friends while they left the room.

"You should go too, Commander," he added, seeing Hicks was the only one who was not leaving. "I don't wanna keep you any longer."

"You sure? I told you, I can work from here."

"No!" Street took a deep breath.  
"I mean, no, thanks." He loudly exhaled, trying to control his trembling voice.  
"I really need to be alone now; just... please..." he said, his tone cold and distant, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The only thing that prevented Street from starting crying in front of his boss was his pride, but at that point, he knew it would not hold for long.

**... ... ...**

The whole ride back to the HQ was even more deadly silent than the trip to the hospital.  
The SWAT members all had before their eyes Street's ghosted face while the doctor was telling him they could only wait to see the real damage on his spine and his look going off as the doctor said, 'we are confident' instead of 'we are sure.'

When they arrived at their destination, they immediately got in, all without emitting a single sound.

"Luca." Hondo ran after him. "Stop! We need to talk." He followed him in the locker room.

"If you're here to tell me that it's not my fault, you're wasting your breath." The blond cop sat on the bench, eyes on Street's locker.

"I'm not." Hondo faced him. "You'll get there, there is no need for me to repeat myself." He kept his tone straight.

Luca took his face in his hands, silent.

"Hey, he is alive, and there is only a tiny chance he will not be able to walk again."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Luca sighted, feeling the warmth of Hondo's touch on his shoulder.  
"I just..." he had to stop as breathing got painful.

"Come on, have you seen him?" Luca continued, looking up to his boss. "Oh, man, I hate seeing him like that."

Hondo nodded, sitting beside him.

"This morning, when I found Street in his room-" Luca's voice was almost broken.  
"The thought that he was there, on the ground for that long, crying for help while I didn't know he needed me- It's-" He turned his head, trying to control his emotions.

"Hey, listen." Hondo locked eyes with him. "You can't change what happened, the past is the past. But now, I need you present and I need you focused on. You know how dangerous this job is."

"I am," Luca hurried back. "I am focused! My head is a hundred percent in the game. I would never risk another of my family's life."

"Good, because we need you." Hondo patted him on his back and got up to leave him alone to clear his thoughts.

**... ... ...**

The constant beeping sound of the heart monitor kept Street awake, staring at the white ceiling. It was dark in the room, and he could not actually see its color; the nurses insisted in closing all the blinds and turning off all the lights, so he could 'quietly sleep.' But he knew the ceiling was white; he had nothing to look at but that stupid white, sterile ceiling all day. And needless to say, the 'quite sleep' the nurses so warmly recommended him didn't come.

Street just laid in his bed, overwhelmed by all sorts of emotions, the constrictive brace constantly reminding him why he was there.

With his eyes closed, his mind played the horrible show his last couple days were; the young cop could hear the shot again, and suffer from the flaring-up of the pain in his back; he could experience the endless fall, sense the cold floor of his room, and feel the desolation of his soul.  
So he had no better choice than to keep his eyes open, concentrating on the beeping and breathing seconding it.

The pain killers were slowly losing their effects, and to distract himself from the burning sensation that was awakening in his back, he tried to sense the soft mattress and the warm sheets wounding his sore body.

_This is only temporary. _

_It is. It'll pass soon..._ he desperately tried to hold on to that hope. Then he had a shiver up his spine, and his arm hair stood up, but down his waist, still nothing.

_Soon is not soon enough._

His arm hair stood up again_. And what if this 'soon' never comes?_

Despite staring at that white ceiling, he was seeing all black, not able to convince himself that the possibility of walking again was more significant than the contrary.  
With those thoughts echoing in his mind, Street felt the weight of the loneliness, and he knew it was pretty much all his fault. Despite his friends proved to be caring and supporting, he was not used to having that in his life, and he didn't know how to handle it.

What Street was used to was to stand up for himself. But _standing up_ was not the right expression to use. Not now.

And he asked to be left alone.

_I can't let others see me like this, I can't let _them_ see me like this._ This thought was stack in his mind.

But now, he was about to break, all alone and lost. And still, it was better than going down in front of the people he cared about.

_Gosh, my boss just saw me like this, _the young cop thought about Hicks insisting staying with him while his squad was out on the call.  
_They all did! Oh man, Hondo will not take me seriously ever again..._ He tried to close his eyes again, shaking off those thoughts.  
_And Luca! _Street's eyes popped back open._ Oh, man, I dirtied myself in front of Luca... How will I be able to look at him in the eyes again?_

And then he remembered, like lightning hitting him, that he could still not control _any_ muscle from half his back down. Not just his legs, but _everything _down there.

Street loudly exhaled, his lower lip trembling, his brown eyes lost in an ocean of sorrow.

_No! I can't go on this way._ He stopped.  
_Come on, tell me something; make me feel something, _he muttered to himself_, _but he could feel nothing. Street felt his eyes getting heavy, and a giant ball of emotions clotted his throat.

Now he could not hold it anymore.

He tried anyway; Street tried to sniff the tears away. His emotions could not have the best of him.

But they did. Now he felt the salty drips marking his cheeks, his chest jumping in sobs and his heart clenching, scrunched in a vice.

"May I come in?" A female voice took him back to the external world, and forced himself to try to compose.

"I'm Cindy, I'll be your nurse for tonight," the woman kindly continued.

"Jim," he sniffed again, hoping she didn't just see him crying. "I would get up for you, but-" he pointed at his motionless legs, shrugging.

"Jokes are good." The middle-aged nurse smiled at him, her dark blond hair collected in a low bun.

Then she approached him while putting latex gloves on. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm-" Street didn't exactly know what to answer. "Fine... that's the advantage of not having any sensation down there, right?" He tried to put on a smirk.

"You don't have to act tough with me, honey," Cindy stared severely at him. "Pain is bad for your recovery."

Street sighed. "Well, if you put it like that..." he admitted, "my back is quite tormenting me."He persistently kept on the timid smirk.

"Alright, I'll give you something then." The blond nurse immediately took out a needle and injected something in his IV. "It wasn't that hard, was it?" She smiled.

Street sighed again as the medicines started to act, making the sting in his back fade.

"Now relax," Cindy said removing the sheets that so warmly hugged him. "I'm gonna check if you need to be clean up." She looked at him, her dark eyes showing him all her kindness while he was trying hard to not blush too evidently.

"Don't worry, I'll make it quick."

Street slightly nodded, not knowing what to say, a burning sensation irradiating from his cheeks.

_This is a nightmare_, he thought while looking away and trying to concentrate again at the stupid, white ceiling.

_A _real_ nightmare..._

**... ... ...**


	4. Chapter 4

At the end of the long, frantic shift, the scent of shower gel and body spray filled the locker room, creating a relaxing atmosphere all around. The taste of dust and blood was forgotten, as it was the grime stuck to the cops' skin by their hot sweat.

That was it for the day, and the SWAT team members could finally slow down, except that no one there was willing to chill. Not when their family was not at full; not with a friend in need confined all alone in a hospital bed.

"Oh, man," Luca said right before the loud sound of his looker door closing echoed in the room. "Look at the time! Do you think they will let us see Street tonight?"

"I don't know, visiting hours are up for a while now," Chris said, not taking her eyes off her shoes' laces.

"Well, who cares! I'll find a way, I promised him," Luca said, the determination taking place of the tiredness on his face. "Are you guys coming?"

"Of course," Tan said while Chris just nodded to them.

"Sorry, guys, I promised Annie I would help her with the kids." Deacon's sorrow was clear from his tone, but the look the guys threw at him was a 'don't worry, he'll understand' look.

At that moment, Hicks sneaked his head in the room, making his sergeant a sign to follow him. "Hondo, a word."

"You guys go, I'll see him the morning," Hondo said, following the Commander's directives.

"I'll drive, let's go." Chris resolutely got up from the bench, a seriousness in her eyes that Luca couldn't blame on the exhaustion of the long day.

"I need to take my car, I'll meet you there," Tan said, rapidly getting ready to go.

"Say him, I'm thinking about him." Deacon greeted his colleagues with a melancholic look on his face.

"Of course." The three cops nodded and smiled to him, then silently headed to the parking lot, the concern of how they would find Street once at the hospital invading their minds.

As Luca and Chris exited the building, the refreshing air of the night invested them. The smell of gasoline and tire reached their noses, pleasing them. They all loved the cool, fast cars.  
_Street would be inebriated by that smell,_ they thought. But they should not worry, he would be back in no time, sniffing the smog of the car they would chase, driving fast and running through the danger. At least they hoped so.

They couldn't do better than hope.

"Do you think he's gonna be alright?" Chris asked Luca as soon as they settled in her vehicle.

"Yeah, sure," Luca said, uncomfortably settling in the passenger seat. "He will be back on his feet in no time." A hint of uncertainty in his voice, his mind wondered about how Street was the last time they saw him, pretty far from good, he had to admit while his heart flinched.

The blond cop sighed, trying to keep his emotion in check . "He has to!"

"I hope you're right, but-" Chris' little hesitation made Luca look at her. "I am talking about right now, about how he will react to all this _now_."

The image of Street's pale skin and the sound of his trembling voice when the doctor gave him his prognosis tormented them.

"We both know how he will behave, right?" the female SWAT Officer took her eyes off the road for a tiny second to look at her friend beside her.

"Of course." Luca sighed again. _He's so stubborn_, he thought.  
"He will try to hide his feelings, hide his pain, and shut us out. And he will try to handle this all by himself," the blond cop looked out the car window, his eyes getting lost in the dark sky. "We just have to not let him do that."

"I recognize he had to toughen up pretty soon, considering all he has gone through in his life, but-" Chris parked her car and stared at the wheel.

"Yeah, he's pretty tough, right?" Luca's mind went back to all the past times he and Street clenched their heads because the young cop didn't know how to handle a family that cared about him, or simply someone he could Trust.

"But I'm not sure he's strong enough to face all this. If he-" Chris stopped for a moment. "If he doesn't-"

"Okay, stop right there!" Luca made her look at him. "I get why you think that, and there was a time I would think that myself. But not now; we can't.  
"Street well demonstrated that if he really wants something, he won't stop till he gets it. Give him a chance, he will surprise us."

"I believe in him, I do. But he had also demonstrated that his first reaction is unpredictable, and now, I'm so afraid he will not go past that, and-"

"So, we'll guide him," Luca interrupted her again. "We won't let him surrender, and we won't let him shut himself in this time."  
Luca spotted Tan waiting outside his car. "And now, suck it up; Street can't see you like this."

**... ... ...**

Street's eyes started flickering at the noise of someone lifting the blinds of his room windows, and immediately, the soft light of the deep twilight caressed his pale skin.  
A ringing in his ears, he kept asking himself how was it possible he had been in that damn hospital for only half a day. Every minute spent confined in bed, with his body deadly silent, seemed to him a lifetime, and yet, less than eight hours passed since he had the surgery.

"Jim! Jim, are you with us?" A male voice somehow managed to pierce the bubble that wrapped the injured cop.

Street's eyes slowly moved from the window to the two people unexpectedly surrounding him. His mind was clouded, perhaps for the morphine, or maybe for the panic he would never admit was rising in him.

"Jim, sweetheart-" a kind voice reached him while he felt the back of the bed being lifted for a few centimeters.

"Doctor Bell needs to do his post op check-up, do you understand?" Nurse Cindy adjusted the pillow under his head, a reassuring expression on her face.

Street found himself imperceptibly nodding, his eyes fixed on the two figures in front of him, but his brain not completely able to process what he saw.

A sudden shiver run down his spine ending at the center of his back, and unexpectedly, he was exposed. The gown, the brace, his bare legs, his bare feet, his silent body was uncovered, and the sight almost made his heart stop.  
All that was enough for the reality to hit him like a cold shower, and he finally started to comprehend the caretakers words.

"Any pain?" the gray-haired doctor asked, checking on the position of the back-brace.

"Not after the last shot of morphine, no," Street said, his voice low.

"Good," doctor Bell said, Cindy still smiling supportive peeking from behind his back.

"But I still can't move." Once again, Street's voice was barely perceptible.

"Let's see," the gray-haired man said, taking out something from the pocket of his white jacket. "No fear, this is totally harmless."

Street swallowed when he saw doctor Bell slightly lifting his right leg and passing that blunt stick on the sole of his foot. At least that was what he assumed the doctor was doing because he could feel nothing at all; not a tickling, not the pressure, not the cold of the metal.

_Nothing._

A heavy silence echoed in Street's mind while staring at the doctor's little eyes. The man's expression unreadable while he examined the other foot, the cop fought to control his hands from starting to shake.

Again, _nothing_.

Still nothing happened, not a shiver, not a single, little movement.

With the fear growing in him, Street sought refuge in Cindy's warming look, the middle aged nurse was always there for him, a treatment he was not used to.  
However, it was not enough, and catching his breath was becoming a bit troublesome.

When his attention was back to the doctor, the man was holding some kind of tuning fork.

"Can you feel the vibration?" doctor Bell said, resting the cold thing on his patient's right arm.

"Yes," Street confirmed.

"Tell me when it stops."

He did; once, then twice, and again while the thing moved down his forearm to his wrist, and the same went for the other arm. This time, a reassuring, even if silent nod came from the doctor, and Street could relieve in a loud sight.

"Again," Bell said, resting the vibrating thing on his patient's thigh now. "Tell me what you feel."

"I can..." -Street had to clear his voice- "I can't feel it at all."

"All right, don't worry." The doctor went on trying, first down the right leg, then moving to the left one, but still nothing happened.

_Don't worry, he says_, Street thought, looking up for he couldn't stand the sight anymore. _Well, it's a little late for that!_

"How... What does this mean?" the scared cop asked, trying to control his tone to not seem that much frightened.

"It means the swelling around your spine is not yet completely resolved, just that," the doctor calmly explained. "Nothing is lost, Jim, you must be patient in this."

_Be patient..._ Street sighed, his chest quivering under the brace.  
"Can you assure me it will resolve?" He glared at the doctor, his heart not feeling the hope in his words.

"We'll know the real condition of your nerves only when you'll start your rehabilitation program, till then, there's not meaning in worrying that much, trust me."

Despite the reassuring tone, the doctor's words went through ear to ear. The annoying ringing taking control of Street's senses, his vision blurred, and the throbbing of his heart was the only firm point in the spinning room.

_The real condition..._

Suddenly, a freezing sensation hit him, making his heart jump up in his throat, a single, misplaced _beep_ interrupting the flow on the monitor.

"Let the ice do its magic, honey," nurse Cindy kindly smiled, her hands adjusting the sheet to comfortably cover Street's body after placing a ice package under his wound.

"You have a long road ahead, but now, you must rest," the doctor said before heading out.

When the caretakers exited the room, Street concentrated on the icy feeling expanding to his whole back.

_Come on, Jim, don't give in to the fear_. _This will pass soon._

Then he took a deep breath, eyes to the ceiling, and his mind started wandering. _Who knows how the guys are doing with a man down... _

_No! This should not have happened, I shall be out there with them!_

A shiver hit him, and not from the ice pack under his back. _C'mon, Jim, put yourself together! They promised they would come back, do you really want your family to see you like this when they do?_

**... ... ...**

The cold lights of the hospital hallways made the three cops blink, adjusting to the change of atmosphere. The usual sanitizer smell permeated the air, always persisting in their noses for hours after they left the place.

"Knock-knock," Chris said, sneaking her head into Street's room. "Are you awake?"

"Hey..." Street sniffed. "Yeah, I, I am." He wiped his nose with the gown's sleeve and looked up for a second as to sand back tears where they came from.

_Damn it! Tell me he wasn't crying. I can't stand to see him like this!_ Luca thought, his heart clenching while getting in after Tan and Chris.

"So, you came back after all, uh?" Street held his right arm in his left hand, appearing uncomfortable like he didn't exactly know where to put his hands.

"I promised, don't you remember?" Luca said, keeping his voice straight.

"Thank you, guys, really... but you don't need to-"

"Hey, we wanted to see you," Chris said, a warming tone underlining the light in her eyes.  
"We all did, Deacon too; he says he's sorry, but with the kids and everything he really couldn't come."

"And Hondo had Sergeant stuff to do, you know how it works, but they both would come so hard if they just could," Luca continued.

"I-I know." Street voice came out a little cracked. "Tell them not to worry, I totally get it. You guys have not to treat me like a baby."

"How are you feeling?" Luca asked, trying to make him open up.

"I-" Street looked away for a small second, and that was enough for concern to grow in his friends.

Luca immediately changed his expression, realizing that maybe the word _feeling_ was not the right one to use at that moment.

"Cold..." Street finally said.

The three cops exchanged confused looks. They didn't expect he would be much talkative, but not even so cryptic.

"I can find you an additional cover if you want," Chris said, hinting a move toward the corridor.

"That won't do." Street stopped her, slightly lifting his arm to draw her attention.

The three stared at him not knowing if he was only trying to act tough or if he didn't want the thing.

"They put ice under my back," Street explained. "An additional cover will be useless, but it's- it's okay, I guess" -he sniffed, his look shifting off, his voice getting more feeble- "since is the only thing I can feel..."

Again, Luca, Chris, and Tan looked at each other with fish-like expressions on their faces.

"So, no more pain?" Luca asked, again without thinking too much about the words leaving his mouth.

"Well, they have some pretty good drugs here." Street pulled out a small, not convincing grin.

"Yeah, I bet they do," Chris said, softly chuckling with the other two.

At that moment, a blond, dark-eyed nurse came in, interrupting them. "Oh, you have visits. I was here to check on you, but I can come back later."

"No need, Cindy," Street tried to stop her from getting out. "They just stopped to say hi; they are leaving now."

"No. We are not!" Chris settled on the edge of Street's bed.

"I'll come back in a few minutes," the nurse said, sneaking out.

"Please, guys, you should go." This time Street's voice came out in a begging tone.

The look Chris gave Luca then said, 'here it is, it's starting', very loud and clear, and he hoped his 'keep pushing, he will surrender to us' look-back delivered the message to her as clear as well.

"Listen, man-" Luca tried to start talking.

"Okay. I appreciate your support, guys; I really do," Street added to stop his teammate's severe gazes on him. "But you have to work in the morning, and you really look exhausted."

"Look who's talking now," Chris scoffed.

"No, no, I'm... good." He soundly exhaled.  
"Look, I have nothing to do but rest here, so..."

"So you need some company. See?" Chris glanced at Luca and Tan, then turned back to Street, shrugging. "We can't leave."

"Seriously, guys, you must have something better to do on a Friday night."

"Better then cheer you up?" Luca said, keeping a big smile on his tired face.

"Cheer me up?" Street shook his head, a grimace appearing on his face. "I don't think that's working well!" More than a hint of frustration slipped through his voice.

"Oookay..." Luca looked at Tan and Chris with his lips pursed.

_Maybe it's enough pushing for today, maybe what he needs now is a little space, _the blond cop thought.

"I'm, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" Street stopped for a moment. "I'm not in the mood, okay? I-I need a little bit of time adjusting to... _this_." His voice dissolved in the air.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, man," Luca reluctantly said, knowing there was no chance they could make him change his mind. "We understand." He nodded, trying to be supportive.

"Hey, Luca, we... we left in such a hurry this morning..." Street forced his voice out, trying not so successfully to keep it straight.

"Right! Actually, I'm not even sure if I closed the door." Luca frowned for a little second.

"That not sounds too good..." Street said, now visibly getting lost in thought.  
"And, um... I'm- I'm so sorry... I'm afraid I left a mess in there."

"Oh, don't worry, Bud. I got it," Luca reassured him. "I'll clean all that up in a flash." He rested his hand on Street's shoulder for a few seconds then moved a step away.

The injured cop stood silent, blushing a bit while watching his housemate approaching the door.

"Oh, yeah," Luca stopped halfway and turned back to his friends. "I don't have my car here."

"I'll drive you," Tan said and stretched his arm out to fist-bump with Street and greet him.

"I'll stay a little longer," Chris said to them then she turned back to her forced to bed friend. "You won't get rid of me that easily."

"Well, we leave you two alone then," Luca smirked then turned to Chris before getting out. "Hey, don't sting him too much, alright?"

**... **

Immobilized to his bed in the quiet of the room, Street kept feeling Chris' straight look on him. Not the warm lights, not the beeping in the background, nor the soft mattress under him could divert his attention from the uncomfortable sensation that look provoked in him.

Actually, it was a pretty kind look. It was straight and gentle at the same time; supportive and spurring too. Her chocolate eyes insistently peered in him that way, trying to dig under the surface of the mask he was wearing.

"I see you Street, you can't hide from me," Chris broke the silence. "Say it, come on."

She waited, but Street still had no intention to emit a sound, so she resumed her talking. "Hey, you can talk to me. You know that."

Again her dark eyes kept digging into her friend's soul. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm-" Street sniffed. "I'm fine, I told you; this is... nothing I can't handle." His tone low, he fought to hold his mask tight.

Chris' sever gaze met Street's lost eyes, hitting directly in his heart. "C'mon, it's _me_. Talk to _me_."

"How are you _really_ holding up?"

He looked away from her, almost holding his breath. The silence echoed deep in the room, broke only by the constant beeping in the background.  
"I'm not," Street finally let go, talking under his breath and battling with the tears filling his tired eyes.

"Hey, it's okay," Chris kindly said, and her severe expression disclosed in an encouraging smile.

"This is too much to handle; if..." Street was still looking at every direction beside hers, as a single, little drip of sorrow escaped from his control. "If this is... perm-  
"I can't accept this. I just... can't." His voice was barely coming out.

"Don't do that." Chris' tone was now a perfect mix of severity and kindness. "You said yourself right before, you only need time."

She took his hand in hers; her skin warm as her heart was while Street's was cold as his soul. "Give yourself the time to heal before losing it to a situation you can't control," she continued.

The injured cop loudly exhaled, once again looking away from her.

"I'm here, whatever you need. We all are, even Hondo told you that."

"I know that," Street sniffed again, and again forced himself to not lose it in front of his friend. "Thanks..."

A few minutes in the now comfortable silence, always punctuated by the heart monitor, the two cops' heartbeat synchronized through their connected hands.

Street took a deep breath. "Well, yet that you say you wanna help, I may use some water, please," he cleared his throat while glancing at the portable table, which was not so easily reachable from his forced in bed position.

"Of course." Chris promptly picked the cup, filled it with the cool liquid, and pulled a straw in. Then she put the thing in Street's hand, kindly brushing his skin and making him feel her warmth.

"Thanks." He took the cup and tried to lift his head, but a wave of pain suddenly hit him.

Closing his eyes to control it, Street felt his friend's touch under the back of his neck.  
Now supported by that reassuring presence, he slowly drank a couple sips, feeling the fresh liquid pouring down his throat and reliving the unpleasant sensation his previous crying out left in him.

After that, Street tried to give the cup back to Chris, but he lost his grip, and the thing slipped from his hand before she could grab it. Water spilled on the floor, forming a small, clear pool, while the plastic cup rolled toward the door.

_What the... My hands now? _Street immediately thought, opening and closing his hand to make sure he still had control of it. _It can't be; it can't!_

"I'm sorry," he said, seeing Chris duck to pick the cup.

_I can't go on like this!_ Street thought, once again clenching his fists with all the strength he had left.

"Hey, nothing happened here," his friend reassured him as she probably noticed how eager he was getting.

"Don't worry about it," nurse Cindy said, getting back in the room. "I got it."

"Thanks," Chris said and left her some space to dry the floor.

"I'm sorry, but you should go now," the nurse continued, ready to check on her patient. "It's been a rough day, Jim really needs some rest."

"Of course," Chris nodded then turned to her injured friend, her eyes wide and full of concern.

"I'm fine," Street tried to reassure her, but his voice didn't come out very straight.  
"I'll be good," he said in a more convincing tone, but still not able to force a convincing smile to appear on his face.

Chris stared at him until the nurse insisted again that she should leave. So she got out, stopping by the door to shoot a last, long, supporting look to her best friend.

Street held his breath until his best friend disappeared from his sight, then the weak smile he was wearing for her faded, and his trembling lips disclosed so he could relive in a loud sigh.

**... ... ...**

When Tan stopped his car in front of Luca's apartment, the hot day had left space to a cool night, and the soft air caressed the blond cop's skin, finally smelling like home.

"See ya," he said, getting out of the vehicle.

As soon as his friend disappeared at the horizon, Luca went toward his house door. Taking in a long breath of fresh air, he stopped there and looked around. The neighborhood was unusually quiet for that time of the evening, and left behind all the commotion of that day, that silence seemed dreadful.

Luca's eyes lowered, and despite the dark colors of the night, he could still well distinguish the traces the stretcher left in his courtyard that morning.  
While pulling out his keys, he shivered as the image of his friend loaded on the ambulance popped up clear in his mind.

_Oh, well... It seems I won't need this_, he thought, acknowledging he actually left the door open.

The blond cop carefully got inside, knowing that that was not the safest neighborhood where to leave his house unlocked. Then he turned the light on, quickly inspecting the surroundings. The place was a real mess, but actually, its usual chaos.  
_Good, _he thought. _I couldn't bare another bad news today_.

He got straight to the fridge, took out a beer, and abandoned his weight on the couch with Duke jumping on right beside him. "It's okay, Buddy," he rubbed his golden fur, "Street's gonna be alright, he will be back here driving me crazy in no time."

Luca closed his eyes._ That didn't happen for real_, he tried to convince himself. _When I open my eyes, I'll find Street here messing up with me._ He took a long sip from the bottle, but then nothing was changed. The silence echoing in the empty house was still deafening.

He got up and went along the corridor toward the bedrooms. Luca passed his room and stopped outside Street's half-open door. There was still a pervasive smell in there, and for sure, it was not the smell of clean. The bed was unmade, and the blanket he used to cover his friend when he needed to was crumpled in a corner.

There, at the center of the room, right where Street fell down, Luca could clearly discern the outline of his friend's body drawn in urine and sweat.  
He could still see him lying there, prone on the floor while trying to reach out for help, all alone and terrified.

He inhaled deeply and walked in with a bucket and a sponge in his hands. He promised he would clean up, _so when Street comes back home, he finds everything in the right place_, Luca thought, even knowing that would not happen for a while.  
He knelt and started wiping it off while all the feelings he had when he first knelt beside his friend that morning hit him violently again.

At that moment, he clearly understood that that image was not going to leave him any time soon.

**... ... ...**

Street opened his eyes to the semi-darkness of his hospital room. It was quiet there, even too much for his tastes. He felt his throat sore and instinctively tried to get up to reach the water pitcher on the portable table which someone had gotten further from his bed by mistake.

_Oh, God! My back!_ Street whined as a stinging pain took posses of his body.

At that moment, his memory came back to him at once, leaving him stunned in shock and fear. The shot, the night spent alone in his room, his legs totally unresponsive still after the surgery; it all filled his mind, clotting his throat.

The regular beeping sound in the background speeded up and became louder. Street felt trapped, with the back-brace packing his torso.  
He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, and he was alone in a place he didn't know.

The injured cop tried to take off the brace and started to move around in the bed despite the increasing pain in his back. He gasped for air as he felt his chest compressed and his throat closing.

A nurse rushed in the room, the confusing signal his body was sending to the monitors translated in random alarms echoing in the room, making Street even more eager to get rid of all the tubes and wiring attached to his beaten body.

When the nurse got to him, he was pale and sweated, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated and moving frenetically from one corner of the room to the other.  
She tried to calm him down, while a doctor rushed in behind her, but her voice did not reach his brain.

Street was now barely breathing, but still tossing around with all the little strength he still had in him.

The caretakers tried hard to make him stay still, but he kept agitating and would not calm down for any reason in the world. At that point, they had no choice but give him a strong sedative and watch him drift away while placing once again on his face the nasal cannula to help his oxygen levels go back to normal.

**... ... ...**


	5. Chapter 5

A new day had just begun, and the fresh air of the early morning was still in Hondo's lungs when he entered the sterile hospital hallways. Trying to ignore all the typical hospital sounds, he directed strictly to Street's room, only to spot Deacon a few meters ahead of him.

"Hey, you're here too?" Hondo started to take longer strides to reach out for his friend.

"Yeah, I thought to stop by before the shift starts, and see if he needs anything," Deacon said, as they reached Street's room.

"He's still sleeping," he whispered, peaking his head in.

"The doctor had to sedate him." A nurse popped up from their backs. "He had a really rough night." Her dismissed tone made clear to them the seriousness of her words.

"Was it that bad?" Deacon asked, heartbroken, glancing at his friend. He was sleeping so quietly now that the SWAT Sergeant could not imagine how much he struggled the night before.

The nurse nodded. "He will wake up soon, though," she said in a more encouraging tone. "And I think he would really use your presence when he does."

"Of course," Hondo said, and glanced at Deacon before watching her disappear in the next room.

The two SWAT Sergeants stared at Street's motionless body, silent, till they spotted a light movement of his hand.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," Hondo said as Street's brown eyes started to flutter open.

"Where you watching me sleeping?" he said in a crackly voice before closing his eyes again. "That's creepy, guys."  
Now, a weak smile appeared on his face.

The other two cops looked at each other, chuckling. Their friend didn't seem to be in such a bad shape as the nurse hinted them, and relieved filled their hearts.

"The nurse here said you are giving them quite a hard time caring for you, Kid," Hondo got straight to the point, leaving Deacon to wait for their friend's reaction.

Street loudly exhaled. "I-" he immediately stopped talking, and no one in the room was able to resume the conversation, so they just waited, quietly.

"I had my moments, I think," the young cop finally admitted as if he wanted to apologize for his previous crisis.

"Feeling better now?" Deacon asked, praying for an affirmative answer. From his friend's voice he was starting to sense the nurse was right, Street was experiencing some bigger troubles then just the lack of sleep.

"I think I am still a little loopy." The injured cop closed and reopened his hands several times as to awaken his muscles. His eyes looking down to his upper limbs were all but full of life.

Deacon thought to say something, but Street reopened his mouth before he could come up with anything vaguely encouraging.

"You know," -the young cop sniffed, looking up- "there's a brief moment when I wake up" -he paused to force the air in his lungs- "like a second of pure peace, where I feel normal."

Hearing their injured friend's cold tone, Hondo and Deacon's hearts clenched; the look they gave him was a mix of comprehension and pain. Their own pain, not even comparable to what they could read in Street's eyes, they knew that, and yet they could not hide it from him.

"There, I feel no pain, no fear, I just feel... _normal_." Street now looked at them. "And then I remember..."  
He clenched the sheets in his fists."I remember _this_."

Hondo's pursed lips gave Deacon the impression he was trying to say something, but the words didn't actually come out of his mouth.  
How could they help Street to not feel like that in those condition? How could they alleviate that sensation he must had of being so irreparably hurt? So completely lost?

They couldn't; and if it was possible, they felt even more powerless then him.

"But it's okay." The young cop cleared his voice. "You, um, you don't have to worry for me, I'll- I'll get used to it."

"Don't beat yourself up like this," Hondo stated, his look more severe than encouraging to say all, but maybe that was exactly what Street needed.

"Yeah, no... I mean it, I'll be fine. You know I'm a pretty adaptable person..." He tried to put on a smile, but what he came up with was only a weak curving of his lips, lasted only for a moment.

"Hey, you'll see, this will work itself out before you even know," Deacon tried to reassure him. "Annie said she will pray for you every day till you get better and she sure knows what she is saying, trust me."

"Thanks." Street let out a sigh. "Appreciate the thought..."

The grizzled Sergeant smiled at him, but then his attention was caught by Hondo's cell phone vibrating multiple times. That could not be a good sign.

"Sorry, Kid, we have to go," Hondo said, reading the text. The look on his face was clear, he would have said more, he would have done more, but their time was up.

"New case?" Street asked, pushing his arms on the bed as he was trying to get up and go with them.

"Hey, relax. We got this," Hondo patted him on the shoulder. "And be good to the nurses, understood?"

"Yeah," Street let out a little melancholic laugher and greeted them before they left the room.

When they were out of the door, Deacon couldn't help but glance back to his teammate, just in time to see him changing expression.

_How are we supposed to leave him here like this?_ He thought, feeling like they were abandoning him to his pain.

**... ... ...**

At the HQ, the air was filled with electricity, and when Hondo rushed in the building, his arm hair stood up, immediately sensing it.

"We're here, what's going on?" Hondo said as soon as he and Deacon reached the others in the briefing room.

In the room filled with screens, the Commander was already instructing Chris, Luca, and Tan; their serious faces hinting they had something big on deck.

"The DEA needs you for a bust at Harbor Area," Hicks said. "You have 15 minutes to get there before the situation blows on their hands."

"Come on, guys, let's gear up," Hondo ordered, running to the locker room.

"Hey, you saw Street?" Luca asked while they quickly got ready. "How is he?"

The image of his young man popped up in Hondo's mind, Street was right there before his eyes with a pale face, a lost look, and a fake smile while he could not do anything to make him feel better.  
"He's biting the bullet," the SWAT leader said, his tone cold as he tried to focus on the mission.

"Yeah," Deacon added, heading to Black Betty. "At least that's what he's trying to make us believe."

"What do you mean?" Luca stopped right next to the vehicle.

"Not now, Deac." Hondo's harsh tone made Deacon bite his tongue. _Not now, we can't talk about that now_.

"Hondo's right," Deacon silently apologized with his boss. "Forget what I said, it was only my impression."

"Yeah, yeah... Head in the game, I got it." Luca jumped in the driver seat, his eyes letting transpire his concern.

"Come on, guys, let's roll," Hondo ordered, settling in the back of Black Betty with Deacon and Chris, while Tan jumped in the front passenger seat.

Hondo sighed; the vehicle felt oddly void without the sixth member of their team there with them. And even though he knew Deacon was right about the fact that Street was hiding something from them, at that precise moment, they were working, and no distractions were admitted. No more risks had to be taken.

The ride along was silent with all the squad members staring at their boots or checking their equipment; and suddenly, they were there.

Hondo stuck his nose out of Black Betty, and the warm sun rays immediately caressed his brown skin. The air was hot and humid, and stormy clouds at the horizon threatened to pour on them their strength.

A quite short man approached the team as soon as they got out off the armored vehicle. "Lieutenant Bings, DEA, I'm in charge of the operation."

There were four DEA agents in the deserted parking lot, all geared with surveillance tools. Cameras and binoculars were pointed to a wobbly warehouse a few meters from their location. They were distant enough from their objective to not be seen by the bad guys but close enough to act promptly if they needed to.

"Sergeant Harrelson, call me Hondo." The SWAT leader shook the light brown-haired man's hand. "Where do you want us?"

"Your reputation precedes you, Hondo," Lieutenant Bings said, then raised an eyebrow to the SWAT leader. "Wait, is this your whole team?"

"Geared and ready for the action, shall we start?"

"Yeah... I just thought SWAT teams were of six people."

Hondo still-gazed him. Immediately feeling all his teammate's grave looks on him, he knew that simple comment got to the heart of every single one of them. They should be six.

"Today we're five. And that's all you need, trust me." His tone got harsh. _We should be six._

"Alright, alright, that's no need to fire up like that," Bings said.

"Let's get serious here, this is my man, Detective Sanos." He showed Hondo and the team a picture. "He is in there with Andrei Evchenko, a-"

"We know who he is," Hondo interrupted him. "Ukrainian mob related, they are trying to expand their business in our streets since months now."

"Yeah, involving the Los Diablos this time. Look at this, Boss." Luca showed him his tablet where he just checked the plates of the car parked out the barracks.

"Exactly," Bings went on. "Los Diablos are Evchenko's latest way in the Country. He somehow convinced them to deal with him and his bosses.  
"My man managed to be part in the exchange from the Diablos' part, but it all happened in a sudden so he could not give me a proper heads up."

"So, what's the plan exactly?" Hondo asked, getting his head together.

"Detective Sanos is recording the whole thing; I trust him to give us a signal when to intervene in the exchange. You just get ready for the breach."

"Alright, guys. Tan, Deacon, go up there" -Hondo pointed to the flat roof of the facility- "you'll be able to get in without being seen."

"Copy that, Boss." They nodded, obeying the order.

"Luca, Chris, we approach the front entrance from there." Hondo pointed at the rusted door guarded by two well-armed Diablos. Then he turned to Lieutenant Bings. "Your men can follow us as soon as we neutralize the guards. We'll be ready when you are."

**... ... ...**

Immersed in a dreadful quiet, Street laid in his hospital bed, staring dead-look at the void. Despite the warming daylight penetrating from the window enveloped his body, he was cold, cold inside like he didn't care about that heartwarming brightness.

"Good, you're awake," Luca rushed into the room, taking Street back from the edge of the cliff.

At that incursion, Street's chest jumped, even if it was locked up in the back-brace hug.

"Luca? What, what are you doing here?" The young cop sniffed, his tone detached and his look still empty. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Oh, man, we just had this crazy breach with east mobsters, local gang members" -Luca started to move his hands in the air- "and the DEA was involved-"

"Wait, is everyone okay?" Street interrupted him, and instinctively tried to lift. That slight movement caused a little growl to escape from his mouth for the tightness of the brace reminding the cop that he couldn't lift. His chest clenched, and the sudden worry that his friend was not there just to say, _hi_, shook him from his apathy.

"Is anyone hurt?" Street continued in one breath, gritting his teeth.

"Hey, don't worry." Luca gently put one hand on his friend's chest so he would not try to lift again. "All went well, none of the good ones has a scratch on."

Street sighed, the relieve allowing his body to relax.

**...**

Seeing his friend slowly quieting down again, Luca smiled to him, the excitement of the action still making his muscle tickling.  
"It was a real adrenaline rush; most of the bad guys didn't even have the time to fire back." The older cop smiled even bigger. "Oh, you should have been there," he finished without thinking.

"Yeah..." Street sighed, this time louder, his eyes turning off while searching for something to look at that was not his over-excited friend.

Luca's smile instantaneously faded. _Oh, what an idiot, Luca!_ He thought. That empty look rematerializing on Street's face stubbed him right in the heart. _Yeah, very good job, talking like this while he can't... No, stop. Don't go there!_

"So," the blond cop cleared his throat, almost fearing to say the wrong thing once more, "I was in the neighborhood to check on something, and I thought I could stop by to give you this." He put a bag on the bed.

"And what exactly is _this_?" Street's tone went back to cold and resigned.

"Just a few of your personal stuff, you know," Luca opened the bag and started showing him it's content. "Toothbrush, body spray..."

"They, um, they got me covered with those things..." Street sniffed, his eyes barely looking at those things.

"And there is pajamas, a track suit, and some clean underwear and..." Luca's breath fastened, he _needed_ to find something that could help his friend or he felt his heart would clash.

"Yeah, okay; um, you know, I," Street hesitated, looking down at the hospital gown he was wearing. "I, um, I'm actually not allowed to wear any of those things right now, but..."

"Oh..." Luca's expression changed as he stood motionless with Street's boxers still in his hands.

"It's, it's okay. Thank you," Street said in one breath, his look still out.

"But I brought you these" -Luca took out some car magazines- "_these,_ I know you will appreciate."

"I appreciate all, Luca." Street's voice was now forcefully warm, Luca could feel the effort his friend was making for it to appear that way.

"And I also have-" The blond cop opened his mouth again, still breathing fast; he couldn't pause to think, if he did, his heart would break at the sight of his struggling friend.

"Okay. Wait," Street stopped him, his voice uncertain and his face pale. Luca had not noticed how pale his friend was before this moment.

"How many coffees did you already have today?" Street continued, his expression still ghost-like, his voice cold again.

Luca paused to breathe deeply, realizing how frantic his behavior was.  
For a moment, he concentrated on the warm sunrays penetrating from the windows, reverberating on the white walls, and caressing his skin. He tried to ignore the sanitizer smell, to bypass the beeping sound in the background, and to feel only the pleasant things.

"And I brought you your phone," Luca calmly resumed, handing Street the device.

"Thanks," Street whispered, reluctantly taking the phone from his friend's hands.

**... **

An awkward silence grew between the two cops while Street stretched his arm to put his phone down on the portable table.

"You still haven't contacted your mom, right?" Luca sat on the edge of Street's bed like the adrenaline he had in his veins till a moment prior dissipated at once.

Street cleared his throat, noticing his friend glanced down to his dead legs while settling in. "Not yet, no... It's-" he hesitated.

"Complicated. I know." Luca finished his sentence. "And I know that your relationship with her is not the best right now, but she is still your mother. I'm sure she would support you in this."

"Yeah," Street sniffed while fumbling with his hands, his eyes down, not able to sustain his friend's look. "It's just that... I don't really know what to tell her." He finally looked up to meet Luca's blue eyes.

The older cop stared straight at the younger, silent for a moment, then opened his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I- I'll manage." Street shrugged through the back-brace and tried to cross his arms. "I mean, I have time, right?" He sniffed, looking up to the ceiling. "It's not that I'm going anywhere any soon..."

"No." Luca waited till their eyes met again. "I mean, I am _truly_ sorry."

"For what now?" Street let go a little huff as he wasn't able to hold his usual self-hugged pose for long.  
"I don't need your pity," he continued, his tone growing harsh, and frustration mounting in him for his helpless condition.

"No, man." Luca shook his head. "I should have had your back in that house, but I didn't."  
Street could feel Luca was talking with his heart in his hands.

Then the blond cop continued, "If it wasn't for me, you-"

"If it weren't for _you_?" Street cut him off, locking eyes with him. "If it weren't for you, I would not be here; you're right."

Luca's clear eyes widened and got lost in Street's earnest gaze, and the young cop could see how hard that few words hurt his older mate.

"I would not be here because I would still be on my room's cold floor, waiting to die _alone_." He felt his friend's hurting look penetrating deep through the wall of sorrow that was shielding his heart.

Luca kept shaking his head, sighing. "I-"

"What happened in that house comes with the job," Street continued, trying to warm up his voice to make clear he meant every word. "Do not question your judgment or your abilities for that."

The cops' eyes locked once again, they both trying to reach each other's heart.

"Luca, you are a fantastic cop, a perfect teammate and even a better friend," Street continued.

"But-"

"No buts, Luca." Street didn't let his friend open his mouth. "The truth is that when I realized I couldn't get up from the floor, I-" he looked up for a second, trying to control the tears now forming in his eyes. "I panicked. I-I totally freaked out. And," Street forced himself to look at Luca again, "if _you _weren't there if _you_didn't stay with me like you did, I... I don't know what I should have done."

"I did nothing," Luca sniffed, once again tilting his head and sighing, as a sign his heart couldn't believe his friend's words.

"No, you did a lot!" Street cleared his throat, starting to lose control of his emotions while a warm sensation reached his heart. "Thank you for not having abandoned me. It-it meant the word, mate."

"Alright," Luca turned his face, trying unsuccessfully to hide from Street the little tear descending on his cheek. "I really have to go now. I'm-"

"If you say that you're sorry another time, I swear I'll throw my bed-pan right in your face."

Luca chuckled, his eyes sparkling again. "Alright, alright," he got up, genuinely smiling, and greeted his friend before leaving him.

_I just hope your help will be worth... _Street sighed, watching his friend disappear from his field of vision.

**... ... ...**

* * *

**_Author's note:_**_ Thank to those who had the time to stop by and leave a review._

_I'm taking my time to explore every aspect of this story in the best way I can.  
I just love the 'SWAT is a family' thing, so I am trying to include all the team members in the matter.  
Entering in Street's mind while putting him through all this is challenging at times, as it is to show him through the eyes of his friends, and I hope I'm doing it right, but anyway, I'm not gonna stop trying._

_Thank you for keep reading._


	6. Chapter 6

It was not long after Luca left him alone again, and Street was staring at the reflexes the sunrays drew on the white walls of his room.  
Breathing slowly, he tried to hold on to that warmth, and to let the midday sun heat him. He tried to not think about the ice package he had under his back, nor to the frost he had inside from that renewed loneliness.

Street was so lost in thought that he barely noticed the young nurse bringing him his lunch. But he was far from hungry, and he went from staring at the wall to staring at the food tray. The smell coming from it was actually pretty tempting, but his stomach was completely closed, already satiated by his fears eating at his soul.

The only positive thing of that particular time of the day was the fact that, for those few moments, the back of his bed was slightly lifted, and he could have a second pillow to sustain him. Those few centimeters were enough to give him a different perspective of his current condition.

Luca's story about the incredible burst his squad just had played in Street's mind again and again. He could picture the 20 David's gearing up and run straight toward the danger; he could see them saving the day, and his heart started running fast at the thought he wasn't there to cover their six.

Two days had already passed since he was shot. Only 48 hours prior, Street was on his feet chasing bad guys, and now, he was trapped in his own body.  
Now, he was forced to bed with a damn brace clamping him stiff, and his hands itching for he couldn't move.

Sitting on his hands while his family was out there risking it all was not a thing for him. Not now that he could admit they were his family.

Street thought he could bare that loneliness he felt, although, it accompanied him for all his life, but now was different. Now, tasted the real friendship, and he felt part of something good for the first time in his life, and he could not stand to be sidelined, nor to be abandoned.  
Not yet another time.

The young cop tried to concentrate on his breath, feeling the heart monitor was starting to beep too fast.  
_The doctor said the surgery to relieve the pressure on my spine went well, so why can't I still feel anything from the waist down_? he kept thinking, focusing on feeling his legs.  
_And why am I starting to feel like I'm losing my arms too?_ He thought stretching out to grab the fork from the tray, while the beeping in the background did not slow down at all.

Street knew he needed time, only less than 24 hours passed since he got out of the OR, but waiting like that with the increasing fear of being permanently paralyzed made all sorts of dark thoughts cross his mind.

_I can't live with this if it's permanent!_

Street tried to fight those thoughts, but the weight he felt on his chest every time he was alone made him want to cuddle that darkness.

Actually, things were not much better when his teammates came to visit him. And they visited a lot, even more than he would expect, but still, Street felt alone.

He stopped, and inhaling deeply, the smell of the food came to him; as nice as it was, it however made him sick. Admitting he confined himself in that loneliness was hard, and yet true. But what could he do? As much as he appreciated his friend's support, in their eyes, he could read how much they worried for him, and he could not stand that. He saw pity in their looks, and he could not stand that either.

Street felt lonely even when the room was crowded because none of his friends could understand him deeply. And that, sometimes, was even worse than being actually alone.

**... ... ...**

A tensed atmosphere welcomed Luca as he walked in the HQ, indicating him that commotion was raising. Moving the first step in, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He didn't have the time to look at who was calling, that crossed his team rushing out.

"Good, you're here." Deacon had his phone above his ear, but when he saw Luca, he immediately put it back in his pocket. "Let's go," he said, moving past the blond cop.

"What's happening?" Luca asked, running to reach them.

"Bank robbery, south LA. The address is in your GPS," Hondo said, quickly getting in the back of Black Betty with Deacon, Tan and Chris. "Come on, let's move!"

Luca quickly grabbed his helmet and hopped on the driver seat.

"Silent alarm went off three minutes ago, what's our ETA, Luca?" Hondo asked as soon as they were on the streets.

"Six minutes, Boss."

"Make it five," Hondo ordered, exchanging a look with him throughout the review mirror.

"Hey, any change in Street's condition?" Chris couldn't hold back, and the worry was apparent in her voice although she was trying to hide it.

"He still can't move his lower limbs," Luca sighed, in his mind, the image of his friend forced in that hospital bed.  
"Man, I can't believe it! They did the surgery to fix him and-"

"How's he reacting?" Tan intervened, causing his teammates to hold their breath.

"You know him, he plays tough," Luca said. _For now_, he thought.

Silence filled the vehicle and looking in the review mirror, Luca could see his teammates' eyes searching for each other.

"Come on, guys, heads in the game now," Hondo ordered, as they were almost on target.

They all learned that compartmentalization was a pivotal point to the job, personal matters had not to interfere with their work. They knew, and they avoided that, but nobody has ever said it was easy.

"We're here," Luca said, turning off the engine.

"Ready?" Hondo looked each squad member in the eyes. A silent, solemn nod was all he needed to proceed. "Let's go!" He ordered once he had that.

The bright sun rays reflected on the multiple glass windows the building had, and the hottest time of the day made seem the quiet of the street even more unreal.  
There were two patrol cars placed in front of the main entrance; a bunch of officers were taking cover behind them, gun pointed to the bank's door, all holding their breath while waiting for someone to get out.

"Are you in charge?" Hondo asked as a uniformed man approached him.

"Lieutenant Kiley." The brown-haired man nodded at the SWAT squad while his eyes immediately met the Sergeant's slightly darker ones. "Three armed men inside; they took hostages, don't know how many."

"Did you already called a negotiator?" Deacon asked.

"No, it all happened in a flash; my men were first on the scene, but it all escalated fast."

"All right, I take the lead from now," Hondo ordered Kiley.

The Lieutenant reluctantly nodded at him and stepped aside to leave the SWAT to do their magic.

"Chris, Tan, you go up, see if there's a way in through the roof."

"On it." The two nodded and went up as soon as Hondo cleared his orders.

"Deac, Luca, you-" Hondo could not finish the sentence that gunshots were fired against them from inside the building, and they all had to rush to cover behind Black Betty while the patrol officers immediately fired back from behind their car.

"Hold your fire! Hold fire!" Hondo ordered as the cops were shooting blindly, risking to hit some hostage.

All the patrol officers froze and looked behind at the angry SWAT Sergeant, and a second later, the subjects stopped shooting.

"Go away!" A man from the inside yelled from behind and open window with closed blinds. "Go away, and there's not gonna be any problem."

"Deac, Luca, get ready to get in by the back; go," Hondo quickly finished to give his men his instructions and took a megaphone in his hands.  
"We can't do that, and you know it," he said, trying to make contact with the robbers. "Why don't we all calm down and talk instead."

"I have nothing to say to you! You need to leave, or we'll start killing people!"

"Hey, just calm down, man, okay?" Hondo kept talking, perfectly composed, while Lieutenant Kiley was getting impatient near him. "I'm Sergeant Hondo, what's your name?"

"I have no interest in making new friends, Sergeant Hondo!" The man's tone was acute underlining how eager he was. "I'm losing my patience here!" He peaked up behind a blind, holding a woman before him.

"Stay calm, man; I just need to know if you're all okay in there." Hondo threw a solemn glance at Kiley and the other uniformed cops. They obviously didn't have the same training his men had, so they were already starting to lose their patience, and the SWAT officer could not afford that now.

"Yeah. We're okay, but not for long, _Hondo_. Not if you don't back off!" After saying that, the man shot in the air, and the woman he was tightening to him started heavily crying, causing the patrol officer to became even more edgy.

_"Hondo, we're in position."_ Chris' voice sounded from Hondo's radio.

"Sit tight, wait for my signal," the SWAT leader replied to her, then got back to the megaphone.  
"Alright, alright; we're moving, but you need to do something for me first."

"You're not in charge here, Hondo, I am!"

"You're right. You are, but I need a sign of good faith from you. Why don't you release a couple of hostages, and then we leave you the space you asked for," Hondo continued, then turned to his radio. "Deac? Where are you?"

_"In position now,"_ Deacon's voice sounded clear.

"You want a hostage? I'll give it to you, but she's gonna be _dead_!" The way the man pronounced those words, pointing his gun to the woman's jaw made the cop's blood run cold.

"There is no need! We're moving." Hondo felt he had no other choice than intervene, so he made a sign to the patrol officers to move, and using that as a distraction, he gave the green light to his team.

Suddenly, a suffocated explosion went off, and the bank's door opened, letting coughing and crying people run out of the building, chased by the thick and gray air.  
The SWAT Sergeant rushed to the main entrance immediately followed by Lieutenant Kiley, knowing that among the terrified, small crowd one of the robbers could easily hide.

Unexpectedly, Hondo's attention was caught by the loud sound of some shots fired inside the bank, and he immediately glanced through the door, but the air still didn't thin enough for him to see anything.

The SWAT leader didn't have to hold his breath for long that he spotted an armed man rushing out the building. In an instant, he had his gun raised, ordering the people to get down.

"Drop your weapon!" Hondo barked, but the assailant ignored him, going on his way with his finger well placed on the trigger.

Not another cop had the time to react that the SWAT Sergeant gunned the man out under the look of the petrified crowd.

The air sounded unnaturally silent when the aftershock of the gunshots ricocheting of the stone and glass buildings faded. All attention was on the bank waiting for a sign from the inside.

"20 David to command, one subject down," Hondo said, talking in his radio. "Deac, what happened in there? Where are you?" The thought that another of his men was hurt on the job tormented his soul.

_"One suspect in custody; all clear, we're heading out."_ Deacon's voice sounded a minute before the four SWAT members walked out the building, pulling along the handcuffed subject.

Watching his squad getting out all in one piece made Hondo breathe again, even if all around him disoriented hostages were still coughing and winding.  
Despite he knew the smoke grenade had been a risk, the SWAT leader knew as well that his men didn't have any other valuable option.  
And at the end, it worked; there were no causalities, no civil and no cops. That was a good call.

"Where's the third?" Kiley asked, causing the SWAT members to look at each other eyebrows raised.

"There were three armed men in there. Where is the third?" He asked again.

"There wasn't a third subject in there," Luca said, wearingly looking around.

The cops glanced down at the first subject still in Tan's custody. "Where is your friend?"

"You lost him?" Lieutenant Kiley insisted, his voice getting loud.

The subject laughed at them. "You're not gonna find him," he scoffed.

"Chris, Tan, check the hostages again," Hondo ordered, handing the man to a patrol officer.  
His heart started pounding. _How could we miss him?_ He thought, frantically looking around, but the search went vain.

"I assure you he was not there when we irrupted," Deacon said, trying to maintain a calm tone.

"Well, he was there when you arrived, and he didn't get out from here," Kiley continued.

"What's going on here?" Commander Hicks intervened, arriving on the scene.

"Your men here let a suspect leave." The Lieutenant was furious now.

"And with the money," another cop said, approaching his boss.

"That is not what happened!" Luca protested, but Hondo made him notch down.

"We got things from here; thank you, Lieutenant," Hicks said, taking a reluctant Kiley away.

"Okay, guys, you sure you didn't see the third man there?" Hondo asked before the Commander got back.

"Positive, Boss. The building's clear; there was no one else in there," Luca said with Deacon's approval.

"Is this happened because you were a man down?" Hicks asked coming back to them and looking Hondo straight.

"It has nothing to do with that," Luca protested.

"Well, you're having a sixth man later this shift," Hicks stated.

"I don't think we need it," Luca protested again.

"You're not the one to decide that, officer Luca," Hicks faced him. "And now go fix this mess," he continued before heading toward his car.

"Hondo, we can't replace Street this fast," Chris said as the Commander was out of ears.

"We're not replacing him for good, Chris," Hondo calmly said, then he shook his head. "Hicks is right, there is a reason if SWAT teams are made by six people."

The SWAT members all sighed, thinking about their sixth members injured in action. They knew that he could be any of them, and that without the squad in full force, bad things could quickly happen.

**... ... ...**

In the quiet of his hospital room, Street was wholly immersed in his thoughts, although, he didn't have anything better to do there.  
He was staring at his cell phone, trying to decide if to sand the call, when a knock startled him.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hondo said, walking in the room.

"Hondo." Street tried to put himself together to be more presentable in front of his boss. "No, I-"

"How are you doing, Kid?"

Street didn't exactly know how to answer. _That question_ was the favorite those days, and he never had a good answer to give.  
Through the silence, Street felt Hondo's heavy look on him, and he didn't know how to sustain that, so he went back staring at his phone.

"Do you think I should call her?" The young cop showed his boss the screen where his mother's contact was open and ready to send the call.

"Are you sure I'm the right person to ask this?"

Street looked at Hondo with his eyes begging him to share a piece of good advice. "Come on, shoot. The harsh truth."

"Alright." The SWAT leader sat on the edge of the bed. "I think you have to pay attention to dealing with her; she always tries to manipulate you."

Street looked up, wanting to scream. _This is not actually an advice_, he thought, his mind going back to all the times he got burnt for trusting his mom, and the weight he felt on his chest grew heavier.

"But I also think she deserves to know that her son is going through all this." Hondo waited till Street looked at him again. "After all, she's always your mother."

_This is not helping at all._ Street felt a lump in his throat. He felt like he _needed_ to scream, but he was unable to.

"I know... but..." he bubbled.

"I'd say, call her," Hondo continued with his usual calm and definite tone. "But how much you involve her in this, is up to you to decide."

"I..." Street looked away once again while the physical pain in his back raised once again, as if his body was trying to distract him from his emotional distress. Then he forced himself to look back at the other man, not knowing which kind of torment was easier to handle.

"Are you afraid that she comes or that she doesn't?" Hondo slightly tilted his head, his dark eyes peering directly in Street's heart.

The young cop completely abandoned his head on the pillow, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly. _How does he read me so well?_ He thought.

Now, Street took a deep breath, his lower lips trembling. "The last time she-" he stopped, then sniffed, and inhaled deeply while feeling Hondo's intense look still on him.

"I was 12 the last time I was sick, and my mom could take care of me," he said in one breath.  
"Then she was taken away, and since then, I had to handle myself."

Hondo kept staring at him, silent.

"Every time I had the flu, or got hurt in some stupid way, I... I had to handle it by myself.  
"She couldn't be there for me then, and now that I am a grown up man, I don't know how to handle this... how to handle _her_."

"Needing help doesn't make you less a man, and for sure, you are not the one who has to handle her now." Hondo's tone was severe but kind.

"I-I know, but... I..." Street looked up once again, tears starting to get too heavy to keep inside. "I don't know if she..." again, he stopped and exhaled loudly.

"I spent a long time having no one to trust, with people turning their backs on me..."

"You have someone you can trust now," Hondo said. "You have _us_."

"I..." Street sniffed a couple times. "I trusted my mom, and tried to take care of her when she needed it-" His heartbeat raised, and his breath fastened.  
"She betrayed me, Hondo, and, and you were always right, and now she feels betrayed by me, and... and-  
"I don't know how to handle all this-" Street briefly glanced down to his legs, tightening his fists.  
"I need..." he continued, but he had to look away once again, Hondo's compassionate look was too hard to bear.

"I don't... I..." Street's mind was clouded by mixed feeling. He could not breathe, and the giant ball of emotions stuck in his throat was about to explode in a river of tears.

"Slow down. Slow. Down." Hondo lifted his arm and put his hand before Street chest but without touching it. "_You_ are the matter right now. You and you only. Understood?  
"We have your six. We are your parachute, your safety belt. We are here, whatever you need."

Street was an inch of losing it, but he fought hard; he was too ashamed to let Hondo see him like that. So, he sniffed, turning his face to not let his boss look him in the eyes anymore.

"I'm sorry, I-" Street wiped his nose in his gown's sleeve, trying desperately to gain back his control.

"Don't worry Kid; don't worry." Hondo nodded at him with his usual determinate look on his face, then he gently leaned his hand on Street's chest, waiting there till he was calm again.

"I can talk to her if you want me to," Hondo smirked, but his tone was straight.

"Oh no," Street sniffed once again. "Definitely not. I'm- I am a grown up man, right?" He forced out a timid smile.  
"I can- I can do this, thanks."He nodded, needing his boss to exit from that room believing his words.

**... ... ...**

The night rapidly fell, and the keen air penetrated in the SWAT members' nostrils tickling them as they got out their vehicles. All six of them; thirty-two-year-old Officer Evans had joined the team only three hours prior, but was already set to do his part in the operation.

The quiet outside the abandoned warehouse was dreadful, but the growing cold of the night was nothing compared to the gelid atmosphere there was at the HQ when Hicks introduced them the new member of their team. Despite that, Evans' tanned face didn't give the minimum sign of turning pale under his stubble, black beard.

Tracing the third robber was not so hard as his accomplice would make the SWAT believe. It took them only a couple hours digging into the other two men's past to find his identity and the hole he was hiding in.

Once outside the rundown building, 20 David's rapidly made up a plan of action, deciding the squad had to split in two.

While the cops all rapidly glanced at each other, Officer Evans' ice-gray eyes diverted attention from the little scar he had right on top of his left eyebrow. As the newest addition to the team, the man had still to figure out how to read his new colleagues the right way, and for sure, he couldn't learn that after only three hours on the team.

"Deac, take Luca and Chris, go to the back and wait for my signal," Hondo ordered. "Tan, Evans, we take the front."

"Let's go," Deacon ordered his little team, moving to round the place.

They all nodded, but before obeying the Sergeant, Chris gave a last rapid glance at the new guy's toned and skinny body, a look that would surely make Street jealous if he only was there.

The SWAT task was clear, they had to catch the man who escaped them earlier that day and to retrieve the money he stole from the bank.

"_I have eyes on him; he seems alone in there._" Deacon's voice sounded weak but clear though Hondo's radio.

"Okay, get in!" As Hondo gave the order, Evans crushed the door. Wooden bits shattered into the air, and the dust immediately covered their uniforms while the three of them entered the building.

Tan launched in a smoke grenade and rushed in, followed by Hondo and the new guy. The air was thick and stiffed in there, and the smoke didn't make the things easier; fortunately, they had their masks with them.

"Right side clear," Tan said loud and clear.

"Left side clear," Hondo echoed.

"Give me a two," Tan said, getting in the next room, followed by Evans while their footsteps resonated in the silence.

_"Suspect in custody,"_ Deacon's voice suddenly sounded from their radio, allowing the rest of the team's tensed muscles to finally relax.

The six SWAT officers rapidly checked the rest of the facility and met in an empty room in the middle of the place. A dim light illuminated them from a single, little bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling, and it was barely enough for them to see each other's face.

"Everyone's okay?" Hondo checked on them, looking around. The old floor was sloppy and cracked under their foot, the walls stained by the damp, and the only window was blocked with rotten wood.

Luca had the subject handcuffed, and Chris and Deacon were standing beside them. Then Hondo looked back toward the direction Tan was coming to them.

"Where's Street?" Hondo said without thinking. "I mean Evans. Where's Evans?"He instantly corrected himself, but that little laps didn't pass unnoticed by the rest of the team; they didn't even had to see each other's face to read each other's heart.

"I'm here; I found the money," Evans said, reaching them in the room, not nearly aware of what was really going on in his new teammates' minds.

At that point, an instant silence had filled the cops hearts; the thought that Street was not there with them eat them out, especially now that someone else took his place.

**... ... ...**


	7. Chapter 7

The sun wasn't yet high in the sky, but the flickering light of the dawn hurt Street's eyes when nurse Cindy lifted the blinds.

"Good morning Jim," she said in a cheerful voice. "How are we doing today?"

Street blinked repeatedly, turning his face the other way till his eyes got used to the new light situation.  
"How are _we_ doing?" he echoed, annoyed.

"Today it's a big day, sweetheart." Cindy's smile made her dark eyes glow, not letting Street's surly attitude get to her.  
Then she approached and started to fiddle with his pillow.

"Aren't you curious?" she continued as her patient didn't say a word.

"Sure," Street said under his breath, his voice cold while observing the nurse do her job.  
_A big day, she says! Unless she has a miraculous treatment that instantaneously awaken my legs, it's not something I wanna hear, _he thought.

"It's your third day here now, it's time for you to start with some light exercises." Cindy took the call button in her hands and pressed it. "Later on you'll meet your physician and start with your therapy."

"What kind of exercises if I can barely wipe my nose on my own?" Street's eyes moved around in a confused search of hers. "I can't move! I still can't feel _anything_ down there!"

"That's why physicians are for, Jim." Cindy kept smiling, her caring look meeting his frustrated once. "Don't worry, it's just the first phase of your rehab; you'll move the muscles you can, and we'll help with the others."

Street remained silent with a dark expression on his face. He concentrated on moving at least his toes because he didn't like the thought of someone moving his muscles for him. But he couldn't. He couldn't move a muscle. He couldn't feel a thing.

Still, nothing had changed since the surgery. _How could I do therapy like this?_ He kept thinking.

"Oh, come on. What's that face, honey?" Cindy's tender voice brought him back to the present. "It's a good thing; you'll see how good it will be for you."

Street avoided looking at her now, frustration growing even more at the perspective of being handled by the therapist.

At that moment, a young nurse appeared on the door, preventing Street to fall into darker thoughts. "Did you call?"

"I did, Lily," the older nurse said. "I need a hand to change the sheets and move him to his side."

"Of course," Lily said, getting in. Her warm smile made her light eyes glow while her curly, ebony hair was perfectly collected in a cheeky pony-tale.

"I thought I couldn't change position." Street's tried to distract himself from the thought the hot nurse was about to handle him.

"I told you, it's your third day. Things are changing." Cindy smiled while the two nurses started moving around his bed.

"Can I sit up?" A little sparkle crossed Street's eyes for an instant.

"Sorry, it's still too soon for that. We are only moving you from your back to your side every two hours from now on, to prevent bedsores from forming," the blond nurse said, removing the covers. "You still can't shift position on your own, though."

"Terrific." Street laid his head heavily on the pillow again. "Great news indeed..." he let out in a whisper.

"Oh, come on! It's a step forward. You have to focus on what you can get," Lily positively said, a charming smile printed on her face while helping her colleague move Street's helpless body toward the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, I'm super excited." His words in total contrast with his cold tone, Street felt completely powerless while the two women managed to lift his dead weight, helping themselves with the sheets under him.

"And now, let's roll you. We have other patients to go to, you know?" nurse Cindy said, always smiling.

_Let's roll,_ those words got to Street's heart like a stab.

Hondo used those words all the time, and Street loved to roll with his team. But now, the nurse literally meant 'roll,' and that was not so much reason for adrenaline to flow in his veins. Especially because he had nothing to say in the metter.

Lily's hands rapidly moved on Street's torso, the gentle touch caressed his body while it assured the right position of the back-brace. He didn't felt constricted, but just safe now. He looked down to the young nurse, then his eyes were caught by Cindy. She was bending his right leg. He didn't noticed her hand pressing on his hip and his throat closed.

All focused on looking down, Street winced as nurse Lily grabbed him from his arm and put her hand on his shoulder. Her hands were cold, but he didn't care because at least, he could feel that. He looked up to her and unease burned his cheeks as her glowing eyes met his. He had to look away, holding his breath.

"Be patient, honey," the dark blond-haired nurse said in a calm voice. "We need to change the sheets before settling you in." Saying that, the nurses started rolling up the sheet that was under Street's body and put in place a clean one. Then they repeated the procedure from the beginning, turning their patient to the other side and finished making the bed.

Street could only wait patiently till the two women finished their job, his look fixed and lost in the void to not have to look down at his dead lower limbs.

"All done," Cindy said, and in a flash, the young cop was laying on his right side with his face to the door while the nurses settled some pillows beside and behind his body.

Street looked down to the older woman, who was now putting a pillow between his knees, and he blushed. His butt was out in the open air, and Cindy had to adjust his gown to cover it.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked him, stepping before him to look him in the eyes.

"Yeah," Street whispered, in his mind the thought he was not comfortable at all in that situation.  
"Yes, thank you," he repeated in a clearer voice.

Lily kindly covered him with a warm blanket and gently caressed his shoulder. "If you need anything, just push the call button, and I'll be here ASAP, alright?"

Street cleared his throat, he felt a complete inept in that situation. "Thanks." Once again, his voice couldn't come out so straight.

**... ... ...**

Another day was beginning at the SWAT HQ, another shift was starting, and the whole world was acting as nothing happened to the 20 David squad during that damn call three days ago.

Luca entered in the deserted locker room with the constant sensation he missed something important.  
In fact, he did. During the last few weeks sharing his home with Street, he got so used to enter through that door with his friend at his side that walking that path alone seemed wrong now.

"Hey." Deacon got in the room beside him. "Wow, you don't seem to have slept much," he said, taking a good look at his teammate. "I thought you were a night owl."

"I am," Luca buried his head in his locker, "but you know, the adrenaline of the catch of the other night and all the rest..."

"What's _the rest_?" Deacon sat down on the bench, insistently searching for his friend's eyes.

"When I got home last night, my house seemed so quiet, too quiet for my tastes. Without Street hanging there it's... weird now," Luca said while his head emerged from the change of shirt.

Deacon nodded, silent. He was holding his breath like Luca saw him doing when Street was shot, and they didn't know if he was still alive.

"The worst part is seeing his bike parked there, and not knowing if he will ever be able to ride it again," Luca continued, taking Deacon back from that painful memory.

"He will!" Tan popped out at their backs. "He will be just fine."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." Luca looked up for a moment, trying to shake off him those negative thoughts.

"Hey, anyone heard from him lately?" Tan said, opening his locker.

"I texted him last night, but he answered in one word," Luca said, thinking about his friend closing in himself, exactly like expected.

"I tried this morning, but he went radio silence." Tan sighed and closed his locker door Then he instinctively glanced at his left as he expected to find his friend there.

"He's probably still sleeping," Luca said, this time his tone let shine through some insecurity.  
_It's already worst then I thought..._

"Yeah..." Tan looked down at his phone, and Luca's eyes dropped on his screen too, but nothing, Street hasn't texted back yet.

"Give him the time to cope with this on his own terms, guys," Deacon said, stopping on the door, ready to get out. "Street knows we're here for him."

"I don't know, Deac, he's-" Luca stopped talking when Evans entered in the locker room, mutely greeting the SWAT Sergeant as he passed by him.

"Don't mind me, guys. Far be it from me to interrupt your secret meeting." With a smirk on his face, the cop's cold eyes rapidly inspected his new teammates who were now just standing there silent.

Luca shook his head, and directed toward the door, his shoulder grazing Evans'. The two locked their eyes for an instant, but the still glare the senior Officer throw to the new SWAT member didn't even scratch his enormous ego.

With Tan and Deacon observing the scene almost breathless like they were in a powder keg ready to explode, Luca sneaked out the door deadly silent, leaving the room.

"Don't worry for him, he'll come around," Deacon encouraged Evans before following his friend out.

**... ... ...**

The croaky voice of the speaker coming from outside the room welcomed Street back from the dream world. Even before he opened his eyes, those annoying sounds and that penetrating antiseptic smell made it clear that he was still at the hospital.

Not that he needed any sign other than the ones his body kept sending him. Or not sending him. His legs were still dead silent, while his back decided to send him a shock of pain every now and then, preventing him from properly resting.

That was why he fell asleep while deciding if texting Tan back or not just a little while after the nurses put him on his side for the first time.  
His phone was now slipping from his hand, and his shoulder was aching for the unusual position, but his conscience was still not fully awake.

A few minutes passed, and with his throat sore and the upper part of his body uncomfortably numb, he had to let his cell phone definitely slip on the bed to search for the call button.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty." Nurse Lily sneaked her head in the room, her light eyes sparkling in kindness. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm a little uncomfortable here, any chance I can change position now?" Street said, still not used to need to ask for permission for every single little gesture he made.

"It's a little too soon, but, yeah, if you are uncomfortable," Lily said, a sweet smile always on her face.

"Thanks," Street said while she approached the bed and moved his phone to the portable table.

_Lily is not just a name_, he thought when the nurse bent over him to help him roll, and the scent of flowers of her shampoo caressed his nostrils.

While Street was distracted by the proximity of her slim body, Lily placed his left hand around her waist and told him to hold to her while she got rid of the pillow under his back.  
That warm contact, as unexpected as it was, made the young cop feel secure, even giving him the appearance of actually doing something.

"Here you are," the nurse helped him laying on his back and made him lose his grip on her.

"Thanks," Street said under his breath, rolling the sheet to cover him up to the middle of his chest.

"Anything else I can do for you?" Lily said, adjusting the position of the back of the bed to be only a handful centimeters lifted.

"Yeah," Street swallowed, his mouth dry. _I need water_, he glanced toward the pitcher on the portable table.

"Here you are." The nurse handed him a cup of fresh water, understanding his need with a look.

Street's hands grazed one of the nurse's, firmly holding the cup, while her other hand was on the back of his neck to sustain his head. The cool liquid descended down his throat, and the chilly touch of her skin on his hair made Street feel like he was in the open air, listening to the soft breeze of the ocean in the morning.

But that sensation didn't last long, when he opened his eyes to the reality, he was still confined in that damn hospital bed, and the humiliation of needing the nurse help only to drink a sip of water fast wiped away the good vibes he was having.

"Are you comfortable now, any pain?" Lily's gentle tone prevented him from falling into the darkness again.

"Yeah; no..." Street bubbled, his back still sending confusing signals.

"If you are in pain you shall tell me." Now her look was more severe, but her cute face didn't inspire fear at all in Street. "You'll have your first rehab session in a couple hours, and pain is bad for that."

"No, no, I'm cool. I promise." As those words left his mouth he had to control a winch, his back did not agree with him, but he had no intention of letting it out. He hated taking painkillers, they clouded his mind, to not talk about the fear of becoming dependent on them. And with his family history, it could be more than just a possibility.

Lily kept staring at him, her light eyes lingering in his like she knew he was helplessly lying. However, he didn't give up, and she could do nothing about that.

"Can I have my phone back?" Street asked just to change the subject.

The nurse glared at him a little longer, then handed her patient what he asked for. "Okay, Jim, I'll buy it. No painkillers for you, but I need to put this under you back as well." She took a package in her hands.

"Oh, not the ice again..." He huffed, that damn thing made him lose the sensation of his entire back, and that was too much to handle considering he could barely feel something at all.

"Well, it's your lucky day, Jim" -Lily turned to him with the usual kind smile- "this is a _warm_ package, to prevent the hematoma from reforming. The third day, big changes. That's not what Cindy told you?"

The young nurse quickly put the thing under him and left, telling she will come back soon.

As the hot sensation spread from the center of his back to his whole upper body, Street found himself fiddling with his phone.

-_Had your sexy sponge bath yet today? Hey, don't get too used to your SPA treatment, man, out here there is sweat and blood awaiting for you!_-

Tan's text was just on top of a handful others Street decided to not answer to. Now, staring at the screen, his word went missing. What could he say to his friends checking on him?  
_Great news, today the nurses rolled me in bed! _Or, _I'm doing great, later I'll have some stranger moving up my legs for me!_  
No, he couldn't say that, nor he could be honest about the fear and the insecurity eating him out. And lying was not a valuable option either.

He was tired to hide, so he just ignored the texts.

Now, Street needed to hold on to the hope the therapy would resolve his situation. He needed to be positive about that. He needed to feel that he could do it, that nothing was lost.

**... ... ...**

Deacon reached Luca out in the corridor, his friend's expression let out all the frustration mounting in him.

"What was that, Luca?" He tired, but they didn't have the time to resume their talking as they crossed Hondo and Chris rushing toward the locker room.

"Gear up, guys," Hondo ordered. "We have a lead on one of our most wanted; let's go!"

The four of them got back in the locker room where Tan and Evans were silently finishing to get ready, and they all rapidly took their gears.

The atmosphere was so tensed there that Deacon felt the urge to rush out and concentrate on the action. Was it possible that Luca and the others could not give Evans a chance, only because he was temporarily occupying Street's spot?

_No, it's not_, he thought, settling in the passenger seat of the car. Using Black Betty on this occasion would draw too much attention, and this was a job that needed to be done with discretion. Plus splitting his two teammates for the ride did not seem such a bad idea in terms of the focus of the whole team.

Deacon observed Luca quietly and constantly tried to glance at his eyes reflected in the review mirror.  
As soon as Chris settled in the backseat and the other three SWAT members jumped in the other vehicle, they could move to their destination.

His mind forcefully set to the game, Deacon kept glancing at his driving teammate to make sure his mind was exactly where it needed to be.  
_No_, he thought, the job was everything to Luca. It was a legacy he had inherited from his father and from his grandfather before him.  
_He would never compromise it for some stupid personal issue_. They could feel safe with him, but still, the thick atmosphere was there and influencing everyone on the team.

The SWAT's objective was a serial rapist, hiding, for a change, in a well cared house in a nice neighborhood.  
Once they were there, Deacon's eyes inspected the surroundings while Hondo explained them the mission.

"We must act fast and clean," Hondo continued. "Our intels say he may have hostages in the house."

Deacon's blood run cold, and he could read the same sickness he was experiencing in his teammates' looks. The man had to be stopped. _Now_.

Ready, set, go, and they were in the house; the door was noiselessly forced. A quick look inside the well appointed house with his teammate's whispering, "Clear," as they proceeded in the silent search, and Deacon reached the first closed door.

Chris behind him while the team split, the SWAT Sergeant put his hand on the knob and glanced at his two. A synchronized nod and the door abruptly cracked open, giving them the space to jump in the room gun pointed.

Deacon's eyes filled with horror as before them appeared a young woman, her clothes ripped off and her hands tied to the bed.

She screamed and cried, her reddened eyes and cheeks suggested that was not new to her lately.

"Shh, shh!" Chris approached her. "Metro SWAT, we're here to help," she whispered, starting to cut her loose. "You're safe now."

Deacon watched his colleague reassure the victim, and suddenly, a shot went off. Instantaneously, his blood froze in his veins.

_Not again!_ He read in Chris' terrified look while they both held their breath.

"Stay with her," the SWAT Sergeant said to the female Officer, rushing out the room to where the loud came.

Approaching, his heart started pounding, before his eyes Street's motionless body laid on the ground. _Not again_, he prayed. The fear of living again that experience made his chest hurt.

When he arrived, immediately followed by Hondo and Tan, Luca was standing there, the smoking gun in his hands. Evans was securing the subject on the floor, although, there was no need to rush now, the man was gone. Luca always had a good aim.

"Are you nuts?" The blond cop faced the black-haired one. "If you want to get yourself killed, at least don't put it on me!" He shook his head, going out before he could say something more, or worst, do something more.

As he passed by, Deacon could read all the anger on his friend's face. Luca has always been very passionate about the job, but seeing him reacting like that to one of his teammates didn't feel usual at all for him.

Searching for Hondo's look, Deacon saw all his frustration for the outburst his man just had in the middle of the action. No, there was nothing ordinary in that situation.

For what the rest of the team could understand, Evans got in the room without waiting for a two and missed the man hiding in the corner. If Luca didn't reach him at that exact moment, taking care of the threat, Evans would probably have no chance, and now they would have to replace their sixth member again.

When the house was clear, Chris could escort out the poor girl they found in the bedroom. She made the scared victim feel her presence and supervised a paramedic caring for her while the rest of the team reunited outside the building.

"Hey!" Hondo faced Luca, his mad expression don't bode anything good for him. "What the hell was that?"

"Ask him." The blond cop indicated the new member with his head.

"I'm asking you!" Hondo continued.

"He was reckless! He could get himself killed, or worst, he could have one of us killed!"

"Like when Street was took down? That's what bothering you?" Hondo had struck a nerve, an exposed nerve for anyone on the team.

"Bad things happens even if we take all the precautions. If he behave like this-" All his frustration shone though Luca's voice.

"Shake it off. He is _not_ Street." His boss kept looking straight at him.

"And I'm glad I'm not!" Evans scoffed, looking his opponent straight in the eyes. "And it's not my fault if you are slow, old man."

"Don't you ever talk about _him_ that way again!" Now, the two cops where an inch of each other faces. "And don't you dare to talk to me like this either! I saved your ass in there, don't you forget!"

"Enough!" Hondo intervened, his tone making even Deacon feel the chills down his spine.

Luca and Evans stood still, eyes in eyes for a little moment, then they both looked at their boss.

"Luca, go take a walk," Hondo stated. "Clear your head, or I'll have to sand you home for today."

"But Hondo-" Luca tried to protest, but his boss glared at him so powerfully that the word stopped half his throat.

"Damn it!" the blond cop turned the other way, his hands clenched in fists and a grunt accompanying his movements.

"Go after him," Hondo made a light sign to Tan, "stay with him, we take the second car. Meet us at the HQ in one hour."

Tan silently nodded and rushed toward his teammate while Deacon, Hondo, and Chris turned back to Evans, a wiseass smile printed on his face.

"Don't say a word," Hondo barked. "Luca was right, you need to stick with our rules of engagement, or you're out, understood?"

"As you command, Boss," the black-haired cop smirked, his wide ego not getting in check at all.

**...**

A small crowd had already reunited around the subject's house, and the patrol Officers had their hands full in taking the curios people under control.  
Avoiding to look at them, Tan reached Luca to the car. "Hey, you okay?"

"I can't work with him," Luca grunted. "I don't care if Hicks in person put him on the team, that guy has no right to call himself SWAT."

"Come on, man, you can't say that after a single shift together."

"Have you heard him? He will get someone killed!"

"Okay, let's go for a ride," Tan said, making his friend a sign to jump in the car to avoid the curious look on them.

Luca glanced at the rest of his team, rounded by the ambulance where Chris was reassuring the girl they saved. Then he looked back at Tan, and shaking his head, he got in the driver seat.

"I killed a man because that guy couldn't follow our rules," Luca said out of the blue, gripping the wheel tight in his hands before even starting the car.

"Come on, Luca, that man was a serial rapist and was threatening one of our own. You never had any trouble in taking down a suspect before. What's really going on?"

"I told you, Evans is not the right man to our squad."

"Why? Because you don't like him? Or because he is a little cocky?"

"A _little_ cocky?" Luca echoed, his voice acute.

"You two started off with the wrong foot, that's it. Just like when Buck put Street on the team, he was not a team player either."

"But he's not _Street_!" Luca finally let go, hitting the wheel out of frustration.

Silence filled the car. The SWAT squad was their family, and you don't replace a family member that easily.

"Do you remember Street's first day?" Tan said. "He was just arrogant as Evans, wanting to do all by himself. But then he learned, and he eventually grew on us."

"That's not the same."

"Look, I'm worried about my friend too, and of course I already miss him on the team, but this is our job, you should know better than anyone."

"I know. I know," Luca started the engine. "You are right, but..." he sighed.  
"Okay, I'll try to give him another chance, just not right now."

As soon as the car was on the streets, Tan instantaneously understood what direction they were taking.  
"Are we going to see _him_, right?"

There was no need for Luca to answer that, Tan felt the need to see their injured mate quite as much as his friend did, and the ride to the hospital went on silent.

**... ... ...**


	8. Chapter 8

The stark room that Street knew he had to call home for the next, long weeks already started to make him feel confined. Bored stiff of that situation even after just three days passed, the brace and the fact that he couldn't leave the bed other than the room was not helping him at all.

A white ceiling and four sterile walls, just like some of the rooms he had in foster care, the cop had to admit.  
Well, now he had a TV, not that he felt like watching it that much, but at least it was there. Street tried a couple of times to tune in to the sports channel, but it just made him feel even more trapped in his helpless body.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed some nurse, perhaps Lily or maybe someone else, getting in and making sure he was all clean and ready for his first day of therapy.

"Your physician will be here soon." Street barely hard her saying.

Staring at the window, he patiently waited. He was becoming good at waiting.  
At least, the big windows opening to the hospital yard were fine, helping a little with the constriction feeling that every now and then grew too uncomfortable in him.

"Good afternoon, Jim," a young, tall man suddenly drew his attention. His quite long golden hair partially covered his tanned face, and when he entered, Street noticed he had a duffle in his big hands.

"I'm Max, I'll be your physician. I'm gonna help you on your journey." The man's ocean blue eyes rapidly scanned Street's body, his voice clear and cheering. "Let's start with your rehab, are you ready?"

"Yeah," Street huffed as Max's enthusiasm left him indifferent.

"What did the nurses tell you about this?" the fit man continued, always with a cheerful tone.

"Not much," Street replied. "Just that I had to begin it today..."

"Oh, that's fine, I'll explain everything to you." Max made sure the bed was in a perfectly horizontal position. "First, we'll start strengthening your muscles."

As the man approached, Street could only abandon his body to the movement of the bed, finding himself facing the ceiling.  
"You know that I can't feel anything from my waist down, right?" He looked at the physician, suspiciously. "And that includes I can't move a single muscle down-"

"Don't worry. You'll get there," Max didn't let him finish, then rolled down the sheets to uncover Street's chest and check on his brace's laces. "You wouldn't be allowed to stand or move on your own till the fracture is resolved anyway, so, no worries."

The fit man kept on with his reassuring attitude, but Street had no intention to fall for that. No, he didn't feel sure of anything, and he felt confident about nothing.

"If you say so..." Street loudly exhaled.  
"What do I have to do?" He continued, far from impressed by his therapist cheerful attitude.

"That's the spirit, C'mon!" Max sarcastically said, then turned his back at his patient.  
"We'll start easy, only a 15 minute session per day," he said while searching for something in his bag.

_15 minutes? Is that all?_ Street thought. _And they thought I had to be all excited about this? _

"First thing, we are going to exercise your thoracic and back muscles, so they can better sustain you, and improve your oxygenation." Max turned back to him with a strange bottle in his hands.

Street gazed at him, his confusion growing quite at the same rate as his impatience.

"Let's start with a breathing exercise." The physician kept that bottle full of seeds in his hands. "This is your weight to lift. I'll guide you with the right rhythm. Are you ready?"

Street helplessly nodded, always staring at him, discouraged by the whole situation. He surely wanted to do his best to regain his mobility, but all that? _Relearning how to breathe?_ It just seemed ridiculous to him. It just seemed a giant waste of time.

"Alright, take a deep breath and relax your muscles." Max observed his patient's lips locking while he let the air in from his nostrils.  
"Good." He put the bottle on his chest. "Now, completely empty your lungs imagining to push the weight up as much as you can." He monitored Street's chest as it inflated. "Hold it. Three, two, one and inha-"

Max could barely finish the countdown that Street started coughing. So, the physician quickly took the bottle off the cop's chest. "All right, all right. Just relax."

_This is not possible!_ Street thought, trying to breathe normally, _last week I could run a marathon and now, I can't even hold my breath more than two seconds? Oh, come on, it can't be it!_

"C'mon, let's finish this." Max made his patient repeat the breathing exercise for another four times, then he put the bottle aside.

"Now let's see what you can do with the rest of your body. You ready?"

"Do I have any other choice?" Again, Street's cold tone could challenge even the most positive person.

"Now," Max took Street's right wrist, ignoring his patient's reluctance. "Slowly form a fist and squeeze it with all your strength."

As Street did what he was asked, he felt Max's firm touch on his fingers and took from it the strength to complete the exercise.

"Good," the physician lied; his patient didn't have so much force in his hand. "The other hand now."

This time, even more, clenching his left hand in a fist, Street felt something was not completely right. He felt like he couldn't put in the exercise the same strength he did before. And the physician saw that too. Street could tell that from his expression, but apparently, they both decided to ignore the fact, at least for the moment.

After that, Max made him close and open his fingers a few times, then he asked Street to alternatively bend and unbend his elbows. Then again, he made him slowly rotate his wrists.

"Very good," he said, letting his patient's arms resting on the bed. "Your feet now." The physician uncovered Street's legs.

"What are you doing?" Street asked, instinctively holding his breath. It was like the man's gesture wiped away all the determination he always had in him. The same attitude that made him bust his ass to go back to the team after his stubbornness got him kicked off was gone in a second.

It was like the sight of his immovable legs made his will fade.

**... ... ...**

For Chris and the rest of the SWAT squad, the ride back to the HQ was as uncomfortable as it could be.  
She now glanced ahead at the review mirror where she could see reflected Hondo's serious look , now at her side where Evans was quietly sitting, eyes out the car window and a smirk on his face.

She would surely have preferred to be with Luca and Tan, going to visit Street. Well, they didn't tell her they were going there when they left the scene, but in her heart, she knew where the two of them headed.

_Hope they at least convince him to answer his stupid phone..._ Chris thought glancing down at her device while the car entered the SWAT parking lot. _A text back would be good now._

Suddenly, the loud of Hondo slamming the driver's door, made her flinch. When she glanced at her side, she saw their new teammate responding to their boss' gesture with a scoff.  
Good thing Hondo seemed to not notice that. Or maybe he just ignored that.

The four cops silently entered the HQ, the SWAT leader quickly disappearing. He had to deal with the mountain of paperwork the killing of a suspect by one of his men implied.

Chris didn't even notice where Deacon and Evans went, she headed straight to the kitchen, needing some fresh water. The job was already tough as it was, and in her thoughts, she had the poor girl they just saved and all the million of victims whose destiny was in their hands. Considering that, the SWAT family didn't need all that tension within their ranks.

"You guys are always welcoming like this?" Evan's voice reached her while she was fishing up the fridge.

"I didn't think you cared that much about the team liking you." Chris emerged with a water bottle in her hands.

"I don't," the man scoffed. "But it will be nice to feel at home if this has to be my new life."

"You should not get too comfortable anyway, Street will be back to claim his spot."

"For what I was told, there is not much chance that will happen any time soon."

Chris shook her head, huffing. "You see what you do? That's why Luca is so against you."

"Hey, I wasn't even there when your guy was cut out. How can that be my fault?"

"You are right, this has nothing to do with you," Chris firmly said. "But you need to understand why we are rooting for him this much."

Evans passed her to reach the fridge, that wiseass smirk not wiping off his face.

**... ... ...**

The silence of his lower limbs echoed in Street's heart, and as soon as the physician removed the covers from his body, the cop immediately tried to stretch his gown. The shame unexpectedly showed up, and he felt the urge to well cover his legs at least till his knees, but from the down position he was forced to, his hands could barely reach his thigh high.

"Can you feel this?" Max asked, passing a metal stick on the soles of Street's feet.

"Doctor Bell already tried that. You know that I can't!" Street raised his tone, unable to contain his frustration while the sight of his bare feet, still like statues, gave him the chills.

"Just try to move them," Max kept insisting in a calm but firm tone. "Focus on the right big toe and bend it, come on."

Street closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, then he concentrated on his toe, but nothing happened.

"I told you, I can't!" the young cop breathed out, his chest clamping.

"Try again," Max wouldn't let go. "With the other foot, C'mon."

"And for what?" Street's tone was now full of anger, his hands clenching the sheet under him. "I can't move my legs, okay? Can't you understand that?" The monitors in the background started beeping faster, indicating his heartbeat was skyrocketing.

"All right, all right. You can calm down; you'll get there," the physician said. "We'll try again tomorrow, and the next day, and all the days after that till you regain your mobility."

"Yeah, whatever..." Street looked away, his hands shaking and his throat closing.

"But in the meantime, let me do this for you." Max's words drew once again his patient's attention on his lower extremities.

Street painfully exhaled, his lower lip trembling while seeing the man was handling his limbs. Max had one hand on the sole of Street's right foot and the other under his calf, bending the leg to take his knee toward his chest.

The realization he didn't notice the man was doing that till he saw it happen made Street's chest clench once more. The humiliation made breathing hard while the pain in his back slowly awakened.

Street could not feel that touch, he could not feel that movement. The only thing he could feel was the weigh on his chest and the blood boiling in his veins.  
His eyes moved to look at the sky though the window, waiting helplessly to hear the physician say he was done.  
Now, he had no control over his body, and he felt he was about to lose control of his emotions too.

"Breathe Jim, we're almost done," Max said in his calm voice, while he put down Street's right leg to move to the left one.

_Breathe, he says..._ Street thought, letting the air out of his burning chest. He didn't' know how many repetitions the physician made his legs do, five, ten, maybe more. He didn't care. The young cop could not look down and could not keep the count. He could barely breathe, just lying there, staring out the window and hoping that would end soon.

No, this was not the hard work he was used to. If he only had a little control, he could start again to bust his ass, and once more, gain back his spot on the team. But like this... his spirit was beaten down completely, and Street started feeling he had no chance to go back to his old life.

"All right, Jim," Max said, covering Street's legs with the blanket. "Now, one last effort before I let you rest." He took the bottle again in his hands.

"Oh, come on! This is totally useless!" Street clenched the blanket in his fists.

"It's not. You have to do another cycle of breathings," the physician kept insisting. "Come on, inhale."

Street had no other choice than obey the order. He took the air in and felt the weight being put on his chest, but this time, the pressure he felt was too much to handle, and he was not able to hold it even for a single second.

"This is stupid!" He took the bottle off himself, trying to dissimulate his fatigue.

The thought of giving up was as tempting as ever now. He only wanted to go back to sleep and to not think about anything.

"It's not. You need this, trust me." Max took the bottle back from Street's hand. "Come on, you can do this." His tone kept being firm yet encouraging.

Street unsheathed a glare, his stubbornness granting him the ability to sustain the physician's look who didn't notch down a little. Only as soon as he calmed down, they could go back to the exercises and complete the session.

The young cop was holding in his last deep breath when Tan and Luca appeared at the door.

"Oh, sorry. We didn't mean to interrupt," Tan said, moving a step back to wait outside.

"You can come in, we're done," Max said, then turned back to his patient. "You did great for being the first time, Jim."

"Of course he did." Luca smiled to his friend, following Tan in. "He's a tough guy."

"Yeah," Street huffed. "I may not be able to walk ever again, but, hey! I'm gonna be a pro in breathing."

"Whoa," Luca said approaching his friend's bed. "Where does this attitude come from? He just said you are doing good; have some faith, man."

Street sighed. "Yeah, if you say so." He kept looking away to not met his mate's eyes.

Luca and Tan exchanged a concerned look, then turned to the physician who was now fiddling with his bag.

"You just have to be patient," the tall man said, taking out what he needed. "I already told you several times, you'll-"

"Get there, I know." Street cut him short, his tone harsher than ever.

"Alright. I'm gonna leave you with your friends in a minute," Max said, once again uncovering his patient's legs.

At that gesture, Street's chest jumped, his teeth gritted, and his eyes closed. His mates were not supposed to see that. He hated the thought of them staring at him in that condition and he could not bear the sight of their pitiful expression.

"I just have to put this leg pump on you," the blond man continued, inserting Street's feet into some heavy, plastic socks.

"What is that for?" Luca asked, not giving Street the time to even think of asking that question on his own.

"I used it a couple of times," Tan jumped in while the physician adjusted the pneumatic socks on his patient's legs. "It's useful to recover after a heavy leg day."

"Exactly. It serves to improve the circulation," Max confirmed. "It's also used in sports, but here we use it to prevent venous thrombosis. As Jim is forced to bed without the possibility to move at all, it's a complication that can easily arise."

_Without the possibility to move at all_, those words echoed in Street's mind from the moment they left the physician mouth, making him want to disappear, making his chest clenching every second more.

"Is that thrombosis thing that dangerous?" Luca got on his tiptoes.

"It is, but with the proper prevention treatments, there is absolutely no risk," Max reassured them. "Don't worry Jim, it's perfectly safe." He zipped his patient in and adjusted his gown, then turned the machine on.

"And harmless, you will feel nothing more than a light pressure," Tan said. His intention was surely good, but the result was not so much encouraging for Street.

"As if I could feel anything at all..." the injured cop whispered, glaring at his friend.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry, I forgot..." Tan said mortified.

"It's, it's okay," Street said among his teeth, forcing himself to be nice; forcing himself to bury down his sorrow and not let his friends see that.  
_I wish I could forget too_, he thought, looking up again.

"All right." Max moved toward the door. "Someone will be back taking them off in an hour. I'll see you tomorrow for another full cycle of exercises.

"So," Luca said, settling in, "exercises, uh?"

"Yeah, that's not as exciting as it seems... They are just useless crap."

Tan's eyes met Luca's, trying to find something to say, but apparently, no one really knew how to handle Street's mood.

"Hey, how long did he say I have to keep this thing on?" Street asked, glancing down to the pneumatic socks.

"An hour," Tan said. "You'll see, this thing really works; you will feel much better after the treatment."

_Feel_ that word again. That made Street's mind go in dark places, and he was about to let his frustration out, but then, he looked at his friends in the eyes and eventually decided to keep it in. They were so nice, stopping by so often, that he wanted to be strong for them and not let them worry too much.

**... ... ...**

The air in the kitchen was electric, Evans' attitude being the match to lit up Chris' spirit.  
Emerging from the fridge, the black-haired cop turned to Chris, his stupid smirk making her wonder how full of himself that guy could be.

"Okay, come on sis," he said. "You have been staring at me all ride back here and now again. Spit out, what's my problem."

"First, don't call me that. Ever." She still gazed him. "Second, stop with this macho attitude."

"Well, excuse me for thinking about me and not about a random guy I have never even met!"

"You really don't understand, uh? This is not about caring, not even about hurting anyone's feelings. This about paying respect." Her voice straight, and the water bottle squeezing in her hands, Chris faced her new teammate.  
"And it's not about respecting Street or any single person on the team. What you are disrespecting is the legacy between the SWAT members. Like this, you won't get anywhere with Luca or anyone else here."

Eyes locking for a good minute, it was impossible that Evans didn't get the message now.

"Okay, si-" the black-haired cop froze, Chris eyes still shooting at him, "Chris. We have a deal, then. I'll be more respectful, and you guys give me a chance. That's all I ask."

Chris nodded, the guy was learning quick. It was still gut wrenching seeing him taking Street's place, even if temporarily, but at least they could be safe going out for action with him from now on.

_Just till Street comes back to us_, she thought but decided to keep it for herself, knowing that Luca would remind that to the new guy at every occasion he will have.

**... ... ...**

It was quiet in Street room, an uncomfortable silence wounding the three cops and making the slow beeping of the heart monitor to stand out.  
For once, it was not just Street in an awful state of mind, and acknowledging that hurt him more than the stinging pain that just awakened in his back.

"Okay, what's wrong?" the injured cop asked.  
Once he past the humiliation of his friends seeing him failing the rehab, the fact that something was bothering them was clear to his eyes.

"What? Nothing's wrong," Luca hurried back in a way that made even more clear he was trying to hide something.

"Oh, come on! I may be paralyzed, but I'm not stupid. Why are you here, in the middle of the shift with that face on?"

"Can't we stop by just to see how you are doing?" Tan tried to back up his older mate.

"You have already replaced me."

Luca and Tan glanced at each other, a look that confirmed to Street he hit the mark.

"There is someone new on the team, am I wrong?"

"We could never replace you," Luca got visibly tensed, getting up from the chair.

"Hey, I can handle that. I want the team to operate in safety," Street said, even if taking the hit of being replaced that fast was tough for him to swallow.  
"How's my substitute?"

"Nothing special, you know, you would kick his ass without much effort," Luca scoffed.

_Not with these legs..._ Street sighed. "I bet I would have..." he said instead.

"Hicks found this guy, his name is Evans," Tan intervened in the talk. "But don't worry about him, the Commander was clear, the guy is just keeping your seat warm for when you come back."

"Yeah," Street looked down at the heavy socks compressing his motionless legs. "It may take a while for that." He put on a submissive smile, trying to cover for his disappointment.

Tan and Luca lowered their eyes too, and Street felt the looks of pity on him.

"That Evans, is he good at least? Having your six like I would?"

"He is not one of my trainees, that's how he is." Luca's tone grew harsh, making Street feel the tension in the room while Tan's muscles visibly contracted.

"The new guy and Luca had a little disagreement right before," the Asian cop said.

"But he has your six?" Street couldn't stand the thought of one of his teammates getting wounded because he was not there with them and his substitute was not a match.  
"If Hicks choose him, he can't be that bad, right?"

"No... He's cool. Ne just needs to learn how we roll," Tan continued, his calm words not having the hoped effect.

Looking at his two mates, Street immediately knew what was happening. He remembered how difficult it was for him adjusting to the 'team is a family' thing, and what a hard time the people he now called his best friends gave him at first.

"He won't adjust to anything if you don't give him a chance," Street said, drawing his friend's looks on him.  
"Hey, I know how much you care about this family, but don't you remember the mess I was when I joined you? You did not go easy on me, not even close." Saying that cost him a lot. Pushing his family to accept his replacement, risking they would end up liking the new guy more than himself, was not easy to swallow, but for his family's sake, he did.

"Yeah, in our defense, you were pretty much an asshole when we first met you," Luca unsheathed a melancholic smile.

Street huffed, a little smirk on his face.  
"I mean, as much as I would like to be out there with you, guys, I can't" -he soundly exhaled, his immovable legs still compressed by the heavy socks- "and if that guy keeps you safe and prevents you from ending... like this" -he pointed down to his helpless body- "I'm on his side."

The two cops standing beside the bed looked at each other, then back down to him. Again, those comprehensive looks got to Street's ego, and he had to force himself to not look away.

"You should give him a chance." Street held back a sigh, he needed them to believe in what he was saying even if it hurt him terribly. "For the team sake." He painfully added.

Luca shook his head, a little smile printed on his face. "And since when did you become so wise?"

"My head goes where my legs can't..." Street shrugged, causing his friends to change expression.  
"And now you should go... You know, with the therapy and everything new today... I'm...  
"Tired."

Tan and Luca exchanged a concerned look, Street's mood went down in the blink of an eye. Now, he could not pretend to be that strong anymore, not for himself nor for his friends, and especially not when he felt he was losing his family more than ever.

"Yeah, okay, man," Tan said. "We'd had to go anyway, the free time Hondo gave us is almost up."

"Well, enjoy your nap, then, Buddy," Luca said before the two of them got out. "And please, answer you phone," he added, stopping on the door.

_Answer my phone... answer my phone! Probably you won't like what I have to say if I do..._ Street forced himself to nod, a week, fake smile drawn on his face.  
He was all sweat and his back hurt now, but what he hurt the most was his pride and his heart having to lie to his friend like that.

**... ... ...**

* * *

**_Author's note: _**_So, Street is finally getting some action on his own, even if it's not the kind he would have. The team is slowly figuring out how to deal with Street's absence on the squad. Evans is maybe finding his way to grow as a team member.  
The hard work has just begun thought, but can any SWAT be afraid of that?_

_Ps: I'm sorry to say that it'll may be a slight delay in the next updates..._


	9. Chapter 9

The room was wounded in the soft morning light, and Street laid on his left side, his back to the door, and his eyes fixed on the heart monitor. The constant, slow beeping almost hypnotized him, leaving him void. The thought of the last five days spent powerlessly in that bed and of the therapy failing to give any result was, for an instant, gone, and he was finally not thinking about anything.

Suddenly, a knock awakened him, and a voice reached his conscious self. "Officer Street?"

"You should call me Jim. I already told you," he said, his tone cold, thinking it was a nurse. "Officer is a word that doesn't really fit me right now."

"I don't think that statement is true, but I'll let it pass for now," the woman said, entering in Street's field of vision.

"Doctor Wendy?" Street bubbled. A little drip of sweat descended on his forehead. "Sorry, I didn't recognize your voice... w-what are you doing here?"

"Oh, just passing by." She smiled.

"Yeah... I think I should expect your visit, right?"

The psychologist grabbed a chair and settled near Street's bed. "Shall I call you Jim as well?"

"Yeah, um-" Street cleared his voice. "Whatever you feel right..." He had to look away as she kept staring at him.

"Who," he finally interrupted the silence, "who sent you here? Hondo? Or it was Hicks?"

"No one had to send me here; this is my job."

"Of course..." Street whispered. He didn't believe a single word. "Look, I appreciate the visit, but I don't need your help."

"Well, I'll need yours." Wendy kept looking him directly in the eyes, even when he tried to avoid it. "My job is to make sure every officer that sustained a trauma has the resources to cope with it and overcome it."

Street couldn't help but let out a little huff.

"And you sustained a trauma," she went on, "a bad one. Also, you have months of rehab in front of you, so please, let me do my job. Would you?"

"Good try," Street said, not really impressed. "Do these craps ever work?"

"Sometimes." She smiled again.

"I'm fine," he said, and again, he tried to avoid eye contact while he kept fiddling with the oximeter's wire connected to his finger. "I'm perfectly fine. This- this is only temporary, and I'll be back on the job soon. No worries. I'm not a stranger to the hard work." Now, Street unsheathed a powerful look. He intended to build a wall between the two of them.

"You don't truly believe that." Wendy's tone was calm and reassuring, even though her words weren't at all. "You said that yourself when I came in, and your heartbeat says that even louder now." She made him look at the heart monitor; the speed of his signals it sent was increasing.

"This is not a lie-detector, it's just a stupid monitor. And I don't need you to tell me how I should or shouldn't feel."

"I'm not here to. I'm here for _you_ to tell me that."

"I already did," Street stated, hardly controlling his tone. "I'm fine."

"Your friends don't think the same," the woman insisted. "They are worried, Jim. You stopped answering their calls and started ignoring them when they come to visit."

"So I was right. _They_ sent you here."

"This situation hit hard on every member of your team. My job is to be there for them just as I'm here for you. They are truly apprehensive."

"They should not. I'm good." Street persisted in his hiding behind that wall, but this time, his tone was more begging. "Tell them not to worry. I'm good."

"I can't do that because you are not." Wendy got up from the chair and approached the bed, putting her hand on his leg, the thin cover dividing their skin. "Can you feel it?"

"What... Y-you know I can't." Street hardly swallowed. He glanced at her while fighting with watery eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Look at me in the eyes, and tell me again that you are fine. Tell me that this is okay with you. That you are not scared at all."

"Stop." Street stared at her hand pressed on his leg, his eyes now filled with tears, but his look was as empty as ever. "Please, stop..."

"Tell me that this doesn't bother you because it's temporary. Tell me that you firmly believe that this _is_ only temporary."

Street breath fastened as the beeping of the monitors he was connected to. Then he opened his mouth, but he could not say a single word.

"Tell me something, Jim. Come on!" Wendy's tone was severe, almost harsh. "Talk to me. Show me how _actually good_ you are."

"You think you know everything. Don't you?" Street's tone got harsh too, and his voice was almost broken, in contrast with hers, which was still calm and firm.

"I know nothing. That's why I need you to tell it to me out loud."

"Fine.  
"I'll tell you," Street sniffed while his lower lips started to tremble. Then waited for Wendy to sit back down. "I have been here for almost an entire week now, and I feel-" he stopped. He sniffed. He continued, "I feel half."

"I'm half a man," he said under his breath.  
"I can do _nothing_ on my own, not even turn in my own bed. I-" Street had to look away again, feeling he was about to lose it.

"And you're right. I'm scared, I'm-" With a lump in his throat, he had to concentrate to not start crying in front of Wendy. "I'm damn scared! I know that the doctors suspect there is something wrong. They don't tell me, but I can feel it from their looks, and..." He felt a tear about to escape his control and fought to keep it where it was. "And I'm terrified that this can be permanent. That I will never be able to stand alone. That I will lose everything which I fought so hard for in the last few months."

Now, Street could not hold on anymore, and the little tear slowly marked his cheek. He immediately tried to wipe it away with his gown sleeve, but from the position he was in, his movements were pretty limited.

"First of," Wendy said, keeping her tone smooth and warm, "you are still a man. You are still a dignified human being, and no one can ever take it from you." She looked him straight, underlining the importance of her statement. "You still are a full man, and needing help now doesn't mean you would not be able to live a satisfying life in the future. You will get there, whatever the real outcome of all of these will be.

_The real outcome_. Those words echoed in Street's mind, and he stopped breathing. Her words should be reassuring, but her hints about the fact it was not just his impression that something with him was wrong struck him.

"And second," the psychologist went on, "there's a thing you will not lose under any circumstances if you are willing to keep fighting for it, and that's you Team Family. They are right there, dying to help you in any way they can. You just have to let them in. If not for you, do it for them. They need it."

"It's not... it's not that easy," Street babbled. It was not that he didn't trust them because he did. He trusted his friends with his life every day, but this was different. This was about showing them his weaknesses and let them see him vulnerable and scared. This was about opening his heart and give them permission to do whatever they wanted with it.

Street couldn't do that. He was never taught to do it without getting harmed right after.

"It's not that hard either, Jim," Wendy insisted, severity and kindness both shining through her eyes. "Listen, I read your file, and I know your history. I know that for you to have trust issues is the least expected. But this is different. Try to think if this happened to Chris, or literally anyone else on your team. How would you feel?"

"This is not fair, it-"

"That" -she pointed at him- "that's exactly what they are feeling right now. Any of them would switch positions with you any second to not see you like this. But they can't. No one can."

"I would never, _never_ wish something like that!" Street immediately shot back.

"Of course, you won't. You are a good man, Jim. And you are stronger than this." Wendy's tone was once again as calm and reassuring as it could be. "You just have to remember you are not alone in this."

Street remained silent for a while, not knowing how to react.

"What," he finally said after clearing his throat, "what are you going to tell Hondo and the others?"

"You can relax, I'm not gonna give away anything of our private conversation." She smiled at him, reassuring. "This is a safe space, you can call me whenever you need to talk."

"You know that is not ever happening, right?" Once again, Street tried to avoid eye contact. He was overwhelmed by a million emotions, and he had not the strength to keep talking with the psychologist.

"I'm still going to come back and check on you." She kept on her big smile and got up. Then she silently directed toward the door and exited from his field of vision.

"Doctor Wendy," Street stopped her, cocking his hear.

"Yes, Jim?"

He cleared his voice once more, and then he whispered, "Thank you."

**... ... ...**

It had been a quiet morning, almost like if the bad guys decided they could take a break from their criminal activities to let the SWAT members crush the gym a little bit.

Luca and Evans where on the ring, rounded by a whole bunch of other SWAT Officers, including Sergeants Munford and Stevens. Thanking God for the protection they had on, the two were taking their frustration out on each other safely and in a controlled environment.

Luca was in complete control of the ring just till he saw with the tale of his eye Doctor Wendy entering the HQ walls. The fraction of second his focus shifted on her and on the thought she had to see Street that morning was enough for him to lose all his advantage on his opponent, and with a single, well-thrown punch the latter knocked him down.

"Oh, come on, Luca," Munford's voice reached him while he came back to himself. "What the hell was that? You're starting to lose it?"

The blond cop ignored him, his mind entirely focused on reaching the doctor to ask her about his friend, but he was still pretty stunned by the punch and could barely get up.

"You okay?" Evans asked, helping him get on his feet while the little crowd around them quickly dissipated.

"Yeah," Luca said, frustration mounting in him. How could he let himself be taken down by the cocky new guy? "Good practice, we'll have a rematch soon," he cut short, without even looking at the man in the eyes.

"Hey, everything's alright?" Chris reached him as he got down the ring.

"I had him, I could take him down whenever I wanted to. I just got distracted."

"Of course you could." She smirked, following him along the corridor. "Where are you going now?"

"Don't you wanna know how Doctor Wendy's encounter with Street went?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Is she back yet?"

"That's why the wiseass there knocked me out!"

The two of them silently walked side by side toward the psychologist's office, but she was not there, so they wandered around for a bit, their lips still locked in tension.

"Where you looking for me?" Doctor Wendy popped out from the kitchen, crossing them in the corridor.

"How is he?" Luca immediately asked, facing her. "Did he opened up with you?"

"Did you talk to his doctors? What did they say?" Chris added, not letting Wendy the time to answer.

"Slow down, guys." On her face, a warm and reassuring smile. "You know I can't talk about my conversation with Street with you."

"Yeah, but..." Luca huffed. "Do we have to worry?"

"He's in a tough spot, everyone can see that," Wendy admitted. "And even if he isn't quite ready to surrender to you, you guys should not stop trying. He will need you more than ever."

"Of course, we won't stop!" Luca said.

"Wait, what are you not telling us?" Chris asked, making Luca suddenly realize what he missed in the psychologist's words.

"The doctors hoped he would have his sensation back already, they don't know what's wrong with him." Her tone was more severe now. "But Street doesn't know yet, they don't want to put all the pressure on him, telling him he won't be able to walk anymore."

Luca mirrored in Chris' pale face and in her lost look. "Never-" he stopped, he could not repeat those words. _Never walk again_, these words resounded in their minds.

"It can't be true," the female cop said under her breath. "He _has _to walk again."

"Don't give up the hope just yet," Wendy turned again to reassuring mode. "Especially not in front of him, he needs you to be strong."

**... ... ...**

It was late in the afternoon, and visiting hours were almost up. Chris, Luca, and Tan were in Street's room. Since their friend could not leave it, that sterile place became a sort of a hang after work for them, so they could be all together.

That particular evening, like almost all the other evenings, to tell the truth, Street was not feeling very talkative. The encounter he had with Doctor Wendy that morning didn't improve his morale as much as they all hoped it would, and the guys didn't know how to cheer him up anymore.

In the general awkwardness, Luca glanced down at Street's phone on the bed table. "You still not called your mom?"

"No," Street coldly said. "I mean, yes. She-" he had to stop and clear his voice while thinking carefully about the words to use. "She doesn't answer."

"I'm sorry, man," Luca said, biting his lips.

"No, it's... fine," Street whispered. "I left her a voice mail, telling her to call me back. I can't tell _this_" -he looked down at his legs- "to her through a text message, right?"

All his three friends surrounding his bed hardly swallowed, and Street saw them darkening, miming his own expression.

The young cop was searching for something to say to break the silence when out of the blue, a fart noise sounded in the room.

"Oh, I'm sorry..." he finally said.

Luca watched Tan, and they both held back a laugh.

"Come on, it's not that funny! I can't help..." Street shrugged and crossed his arms tight, but, feeling the brace starting to clamp him, he had to relax them back on the bed.

"You guys are so childish," Chris exclaimed, giving the two a powerful glare.

"Okay, okay, I confess," Luca chuckled. "It was me; sorry." He shrugged too, a grin on his face.

Street huffed, with a hint of a smile poking out.

"Classy, Luca, very classy," Chris said before they all let out a hearty laugh.

In a more comfortable atmosphere, their expressions were now finally relaxed.

"I really missed this..." Street let out with a hesitant smile still drawn on his face.

"You missed what? Luca's performances?" Chris scoffed, her eyebrows rising.

"No!" Street huffed again. "I missed you guys messing with me," he timidly admitted. "You were all walking on eggshells, but this... this is what makes me feel normal again."

"What are you talking about? You were never normal!" Chris said putting a big smile on.

"Woh-ho!" Tan took a hand to his mouth and with the other one bumped his fist with her.

"Yeah," Street softly chuckled, "well-played girl, well-played."

The injured cop was sincerely relieved that they could treat him like before the shot, but he however, couldn't help but think that something was still wrong. He could see it in his friends' eyes every time they thought he was not looking at them. And he felt that under his skin too.

Now, Street was tired and sweaty, his arms were heavy and his legs still completely paralyzed, even after six whole days after the shot, five after the surgery. That was not encouraging at all, and acting like he didn't notice that, it was starting to become impossible. But his friends were there, and he had to hold on for them.

Trying to print his friends' laughs in his heart and focus on their smiles, Street fought hard the dark thoughts preventing them from taking control of him. At least until his mates were there to see him suffer. He hated them to see him suffer like that.

**... ... ...**

Another day, another breach. It was just the SWAT routine, and Chris liked to have that kind of days now and then. Nothing too messy or too complicated, just cleaning up the neighborhood from smugglers and dealers, assisting the DEA or the Guns and robbers division.

Being so early in the morning, the streets were practically deserted, but the place they had to reclaim, an old complex of apartment, they knew it was already full of people. That building was the base of some low-level drug dealers, and it had rotten doors at every floor, trash on the corridors' floors, and walls full of graffiti.

The unique smell of the decay stained the cop's noses as they got in. Once they made sure no more dodgy subjects were in the place, the SWAT members could split and take care of the non-dangerous ones.

Chris was on the top floor, making sure every little junkie could be safely taken out when a figure trying to hide in a stiffed room caught her attention.

"Mrs. Street?" the female cop exhaled, shaking her head as she faced the woman.

"Let me go! I don't know you. I did nothing wrong!" Karen Street said in an eager tone. "I was just passing by, I did nothing!"

"Mrs. Street, I'm SWAT Officer Chris Alonso, I work with your son, Jim," Chris firmly said, taking the lady aside.

"Jimmy?" Karen started frantically looking around. "Is Jimmy here? He-he can't see me like this... he..."

"He's not here," Chris stated. "You would know if you'd answer your son's calls." Her tone grew harsh, _how was it possible that she worried so much about the appearances now, when she didn't even bother to answer her son's call for help? _

"What's happening here?" Deacon finished to clear his part of the building and now approached the two women.

"I'll introduce you to the one and only Miss Karen Street," Chris said, pointing at the impatient lady standing beside her.

"She's Street's mom?" Deacon's eyebrows raised. "Is she..."

"Yeah," Chris confirmed, trying to make an educated guess about which substance Mrs. Street was on.

"Isn't she on parole?" Deacon continued, all serious.

"Deac, we can't turn her in while Street is..." Chris stopped, glancing at his friend's mother. "We can't do this to him."

Deacon sighed. "We can't let her go away with this, we-"

"While my son is what?" Karen interrupted them. "Where is Jimmy? Why he's not here with you?"

The two cops looked at each other, that was surely not the way Street planned to let his mother know about his injury.

"Your son was shot, almost a week ago," Deacon calmly explained. "He's fine now," he hurried to add, "but there is a chance he will remain partially paralyzed."

"Paralyzed?" Karen looked at them more puzzled than shocked, the drugs still clouding her mind. "I need to see him, where is he?"

Deacon opened his mouth to tell her, but Chris harshly interrupted him. "There is no chance I'm letting her any near him in this condition!"

"Jimmy's my son! You can't stop me from seeing him!" The lady insisted, unsheathing her best glare at the female SWAT Officer.

"I'm sorry, Mrs., she's right," Deacon continued. "You're lucky we don't report you to your parole officer."

Suddenly, Hondo's voice came through the radio, making the SWAT Sergeant cross his look with the female Officer._ "Deac, Chris, what's taking you so long in there?"_

"We're almost done Hondo; we're coming down," Chris hurried back before her teammate could respond on his own.

"We should tell him, Chris," Deacon said.

"I don't want to put this on Hondo. He is the SWAT leader, he can't be caught covering for a junkie."

"I'm not- I'm not a junkie!" Karen objected. "But, please, please don't tell your boss," she made Deacon the puppy eyes, touching his arm. "He would turn me in, I know him. Please, don't turn me in."

Deacon shook his head and stepped back from her touch, then he looked the lady straight. "We let you go, but you get clean, and then, _only then_, you call your son back, understood?"

"I'll do whatever you say, please, just let me go see my son."

"No. You must listen to us now!" Chris intervened. "_First_, you get clean, and _then_ you go supporting your son. And don't you dare screw him up again."

"How you dare to talk to me like that, girl?" Karen turned red, hate shining through her eyes. "I'm his mother! I know what's best for him, and you are no one to him!"

"_I_ am no one?" Chris jumped on her tiptoes, facing her. "He risked his career to help you, and you turned your back on him while I have been there for him all the time!"

"Enough, both of you!" Deacon divided them. "Chris, we need to go. And you, Mrs. Street, you should go too, before anyone else sees you."

Hate still shining through her dark eyes, Karen Street glared at the two cops while they moved to reach their teammates outside the rotten building.

"Are you sure this is the right move?" Deacon asked Chris while coming down the stairs.

She soundly exhaled. "What choice do we have? She's Street's mom, and he can't take more bad news right now. I don't want to be responsible for putting that on him while he-"

"Hey, any problems up there?" Hondo interrupted her, approaching them as soon as they put a foot out the door.

The two cops shook their heads. "Nothing relevant," Chris rushed back.

"Wait, where's that woman going?" Luca said, glancing at the figure sneaking out from a side exit.

"I'm sure she's no one." A grimace appeared on Chris' face as she perfectly knew who the woman was.

Hondo recognized her too, and still-gazed Deacon and Chris. "Isn't she-"

"I can explain," she rushed back. "Deac has nothing to do with this, it was my idea to let her go."

A puzzled look appeared on the rest of the team.

"She was here to buy?" Hondo kept staring at them severely, and they just nodded, silent.  
"You should have told me."

"We know," Deacon intervened. "But you could not take the fall for her getting away, and we could not be responsible for her getting send back to prison."

Hondo's eyes were wide and fixed on his second in command. "Next time, let me decide for what I'm disposed to take the fall."

All the ride back to the HQ, quietly sitting in the back of Black Betty, Chris kept thinking about Street and his mother and about the harm that woman kept inflicting her best friend. Her heart ached for him, she couldn't stand for all those bad things happening to him all at once.

**... ... ...**


	10. Chapter 10

Luca gladly breathed the hospital air full lungs while walking down the sterile hallway. Confronted to the stench there was in the rotten complex building the SWAT just irrupted in, the persistent smell of sanitizer that hit Luca as soon as he put a foot in the hallway for once, didn't seem so disturbing. That way too familiar atmosphere, in fact, was even pleasant, helping him to shake off the dirt and moist he encountered in the last action with his squad.

"Good morning," Luca smiled big toward the dark-haired nurse who was getting out of Street's room.

"Oh, good morning Officer," she said, a sad smile on her face.

"How's he doing today?" Luca glanced at the door the nurse had left ajar. In the air, the feeling that there was a darker atmosphere inside that room. "Any good news for us?"

The nurse shook her head, her kind look giving strength to a reassuring expression.

"Nothing bad either, right?"

"Don't worry, nothing changed. But speaking of bad things, I should warn you... you may want to give Jim a few minutes before going in." She rested her hand on Luca's arm. "He is _a little_ cranky right now."

Luca tried unsuccessfully to peak in his friend's room, then looked back at the nurse. "Did something happen?"

"Oh, not really, but he didn't have too much sleep last night. At the moment, he does not cope very well with having people around." The young woman tried to keep smiling, but it was clear from her face how sorry she felt for her patient.

"Thanks. Let me handle him," Luca said, greeting her and leaning on the door. "Hey, Bud," -he softly knocked- "may I come in?"

"Hey..." Street cleared his voice. His eyes met Luca's for a little moment, but then, he went back to stare at his hands, fiddling with the oximeter.

"You know what?" Luca approached his friend's bed. "I think you hit on that pretty nurse-"

"You think?" Street huffed. "I'm not exactly a catch right now, so..." he harshly cut his mate short.

"Whoa, someone really is cranky here," Luca muttered to himself.

This time, Street gave him a very powerful glare, which made even more clear that his mood was not great. Luca controlled an imperceptible wince; that look on his friend's face was dreadful.

"Come on, everything is gonna be alright, you'll see." Luca settled a chair near his friend who kept trying to ignore his mate's presence. "You just have to be a little bit more patient." Luca's try to cheer his friend up was not going exactly as planned. Not at all, actually, but in his defense, Luca didn't think to find Street that down and was not entirely prepared for that kind of talk.

"_A little bit more_, you say? That's..." Street clenched the sheets in his fists in an active attempt to control his rage. "Everything is going to be fine. Hold on. Be _patient_! Have you any idea how many times I heard those words in my whole life?" he said in one breath.

Hearing that bitter tone, Luca's heart skipped a beat. Things where definitely worse than he though.

"Things will be better soon, he won't hurt you anymore... My- my mother kept telling me that, and guess what? It didn't go as she planned!" Street barely caught his breath while pronouncing the phrase. "Noting ever goes as planned."

Luca opened his mouth, his heart beating painfully, but he had no time to say anything before his friend resumed his vomiting of words.

"You'll adjust to this situation; you'll find good people. You'll find a good family that will take care of you... That's what social workers kept telling me. Gee, that's what Buck kept telling me, and guess what? They were all wrong! Things never, _never_ go as you wish they would. How should this be any different?"

"Hey, come on, that's not true," Luca had finally the chance to speak up, so he looked at Street straight and went on, "At the end, Buck was right. You found a good family; you found us. And we won't leave you alone, you better accept that. There is no reason why this situation will not resolve for the best. And it will make things a lot more easier, for you and for us either, if just stop pushing us away."

"I don't need pity. Not yours, not the guys'. I don't need-" Street gritted his teeth, a sparkle of sorrow crossed in his eyes while his voice filled with anger to cover that up.

Street's expression could not be more precise, making Luca perceive all his distress under his skin."Stop pushing us away, Street. You already did that once, and where did that lead you?"

"It's been almost a week, Luca! Six. Whole. Days. And nothing is moving... literally! Nothing!" Anger faded, and resignation shone through. "I can't, I just can't go on like this..."

"Hey, hey. Come on, man, don't go there. I know you are scared. I know, alright?" Luca's eyes met Street's despite the latter's reluctance. "Admitting it would not make you weaker. Hell, I'm scared too!"

"Oh... oh, no. No." Street looked up at the ceiling. "Scared is not even close to how I feel right now," he let out, his anger tone dissipating in a soft howl.

"So talk to me, tell me how you feel. You need to let me in, Street." Luca got up and approached the bed, determination underlining his movements.

"You can't understand... You-" Street's lower lip started trembling although he was trying to control himself.

"Explain it to me. I am here for you. I'll do anything to make you feel-"

"Stop! Okay? Stop!" With a sudden movement, Street pulled the covers away from himself and revealed his body to his friend. "Look at me! Come on. Look down!"

Luca slowly lowered his look and inspected his friend's body. The gown covered his swollen lower limbs mid-thigh-high, and fuzzy socks covered his feet and legs. One was up the right leg almost till the knee, the other one was rolled up on Street's left ankle. Then Luca's eyes laid on the catheter, a thin tube descending from his friend's groin to his thigh, fixed with some duct-tape to the leg and still going further down the mattress to a bag hung to the leg of the bed.

"I can't feel _anything_ down there!" Street tone was so cold it froze Luca's heart. "I am forced to- to- this bed-" he sniffed, "and I can do _anything_ by myself." His solemn and dark voice made Luca shiver. "I can't even control the simplest functions of my own body, do you understand how humiliating is that? I-" Street loudly exhaled, his eyes filling with tears while his voice could not come out straight anymore. "A whole week passed, and I am not even allowed to wipe my own ass. Not a single once I could- I... Can you understand how-"

Luca swallowed, Street's words let him speechless.

"I-I can't do this. I can't." Street goofily tried to put the blanket back on with his shaking hands. "I can't live like this..." He had to surrender, abandoning his limbs on the mattress, non able to properly control his movements.

"Let it out. C'mon, don't keep everything inside." Luca tried to hook the calm for his friend while helping him cover his body again. _He didn't mean what he just said,_ Luca hoped, praying Street only needed to unload. "It's okay to let your emotions out every now and then. You can't keep all that inside."

Street held his breath; he won't watch his friend in the eyes, not while desperately trying to hold it together.

"You can trust me, you know that." Luca tried unsuccessfully to meet his look. "Just let it out."

Street took his face in his hands. "You can't understand. I don't want to live like this. I can't... I... can't."

"Don't say that, don't! I believe in you; I know you can do this." Luca felt a lump in his throat, his friend was surrendering, and he could not let him go there. But how could he help him? His own heart was bleeding.

"There is no mean..." Street's look was now submissive, and although he was so badly trying to not let his friend see his face, in his eyes Luca could read all his desire to give up.

"Leave me alone, just... leave!" Street cried. "Leave! Leave..."

Luca heard his younger friend trying to control a sob, and looking straight at him, he could discern tears forming in his dark eyes.

"I'm not leaving. You should get use to that." Luca tried to peer in Street's soul, and his heart clenched once more for what he saw in the depth of it. "I'll be right here. With you. For you."

Luca reluctantly decided to turn the other way, his eyes landing on the view out the window to give his friend the space he needed to let go all his sorrow. As soon as he did that, Luca could hear Street's smothered sobs slowly culminate in a loud gasp, and then more loud cries escaped from his mouth.

Luca felt tears marking his own cheeks, fighting the desire to turn back and hug his suffering friend. He was dying to comfort him, but he knew he couldn't. Street's back was too fragile even for a hug, and probably at that moment, his ego was even more frail.

After a few minutes, Luca glanced down at Street, his braced chest was jumping at every sob, his hands trembled, and tears poured down his reddened face. Luca turned back, staring out the window again, and quietly listened to his friend letting go what he was so jealously keeping inside. Every little cry he heard was like a punch in his stomach.

After ten solid minutes of profound silence, Street sniffed a couple times. "I'm-" He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his gown, then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I-"

Luca rapidly wiped his cheeks and turned to him, putting on one of his most warming smiles.

"This, this is not me... I-" Street barely managed to say, still shaking.

"It's okay, man." Luca warmly rested his hand on Street's shoulder and looked him in his reddened eyes, as to say, _if there is more that needs to come out, that's the time_.

In Street's void look and helpless expression, Luca could only see how completely exhausted his friend was for that powerful emotional release, so he decided to stop insisting. But just for now. SWAT are not people who surrender, and Street needed to keep that in mind too because unless proved otherwise, he was still SWAT.

**... ... ...**

Newly formed clouds welcomed Luca outside the hospital, _just like if the sky knows what storm is going on inside my friend's heart_, he thought, looking up. Despite the sun could only peek from behind that gray wall of vapor, getting in the car, the air-conditioning gave him some relief from the hitting up day.

For the whole ride back to the HQ, Luca could not wipe off his mind the image of the crying Street. In his ears, his friend's heavy sobs; in his heart, his words 'I can't.'

At least, Luca was glad it was his turn to stop by and see how Street was doing. He was grateful that he could be there for his mate when he needed a friend, but the thought of his team asking him to describe what he just witnessed was killing him. How could he go back to his family and tell them he saw their little brother like that?

Fortunately, he didn't have to do that, not right away at least. A call arrived, and Luca turned the car; he must meet Deacon and Evans in order to question some relevant witness to their newest case.

Luca was the first one to arrive on the site, a neglected No-Tell, because that place could hardly be called a motel. _How could Hondo hope we will find something here?_

He stood in the parking lot for about ten minutes, his eyes wandering from the stillness of the cars parked there to the continual movement of the ones in the market store just a few meters down the street. Then his colleagues where finally there.

"How's your friend?" Evan asked, approaching him.

Luca looked him suspicious. "If you are afraid to lose your job, you can relax. Street can't be back soon enough."

As those words got out of his mouth, Luca felt a cramp in the stomach. Admitting out loud that Street was in a tougher place than he'd hoped was painful; admitting it to that cocky new guy was even harder to digest.

"Never mind," Evans said, shaking his head. "I was just trying to be nice."

Deacon threw a gaze at Luca, silently 'inviting' him to be kinder to their new teammate.

"I'm sorry, I had a rough awakening this morning," Luca said, like a child who's mother forced him to apologize to another kid.

At that point, Deacon's look shifted from severe to concerned. Luca could discern the exact moment in which his mate realized what he was implying with his previous words. Street was not doing well, and those were not just the fears of an overprotective friend, those were the facts.

"Let's go to work now," Luca said, and the three of them moved to the reception to start from there.

Obviously, the owner of the rotten place had not record of his clients. _Well, what would you expect from a place like that?_

The three cops had no other choice then start to go from room to room to find the person they were looking for. Deacon started from the third and last floor, descending, Luca from the second, and Evans started from the first, going up.

Suddenly Deacon's voice sounded in the air, "Freeze! Police, don't move!"

Luca immediately turned and saw a man running down the stairs. Their pursuit began, and the rusted steps creaked under their feet. The hot, dump air penetrated deep in their nostrils while they breathed full lungs, and their voices yelled, "Stop!" hurting their throats while coming out.

As the subject reached the ground floor, he turned, unsheathing a gun and aiming it up toward the two cops still descending the stairs, completely out of cover. This time it was Evans who saved the day, tackling the man down before he could even think to pull the trigger.

_For sure a good way to prove himself to the team, but also a good way to feed his ego,_ Luca couldn't help but think, reliving in a sound sigh.

"You guys okay?" The black-haired cop grinned.

"Good job, Evans" Deacon said, getting to him and helping him pulling the now handcuffed subject up.

"Yeah, good job, man," Luca said under his breath because admitting it was so hard. "Good job..."

**... ... ...**

After the adrenaline-full day the SWAT had, Hondo was glad to find a quiet night at the hospital. A couple nurses were at the check in counter, some doctors were wandering around and visiting patients, and there were not many people in the ER waiting room. Hondo walked in, passing by the nurse's desk and heading directly toward Street's room. He was about to enter when a black-haired nurse walked out the door.

"Oh, that's great! You're just the person I hoped to see tonight," she said, blocking him.

Hondo smiled with his usual charm. "Glad to see you too, nurse..."

"Beth." She made a few steps away from the door, making him come aside with her. "You are Jim's boss right?"

"His Sergeant, yes." Hondo looked straight at her green eyes. "What's going on? There's something wrong with him?"

"Not exactly, but you need to convince Jim to eat something. It's been two days since he last touched his food. He can't go on like this."

"He's not eating?" Hondo's eyebrows scrunched together while concern grew in him.

"It's not uncommon with this kind of injuries to get down and lose the appetite, but he needs to react, and he needs to do that now. Maybe you can help with that."

"I'll sure try, but the kid is stubborn." Hondo quickly glanced toward Street's room.

"Oh, yeah, we all have notice that. But..." -the nurse inhaled deeply- "the lesion in his spine and being blocked in bed for all this time is already slowly consuming Jim's body. He is losing weight and muscular tone, and his internal organs are getting weak too." The look on her face was solemn, like her tone was. "He needs to eat. He needs to get calories in, but more important, he needs to exercise his stomach and make his bowel work. And we can't have that with force feeding."

"Wait, force feeding?" Hondo was blew up by that possibility. "Is the situation that serious?"

"Not yet. But you have to convince Jim to eat something, even a little to start at least, or we'll reach that point very soon."

"I got him, don't worry." Hondo nodded, grazing the nurse's arm and greeting her before getting in the room to face his man.

"Is the food so terrible here?" he said, glancing at the tray on the portable table. Beside the cover plate there was some bread, an apple and a bottle of water. And of course, in the corner there was the usual jelly.

"I'm not hungry right now." Street's out-look staring at his dead feet made Hondo immediately realize the gravity of the situation.

"You know, if you want I can try to sneak in a cheeseburger, maybe it will be better than this." Hondo lifted the cloche that covered the plate, revealing some chicken and smash. "Well, it's not five stars, but it doesn't look so terrible either."

"It's not that. I'm just not hungry." Street's tone grew even harsher. "Can you please close that thing? The smell makes me sick."

"Come on, you have to eat." Hondo's face became straighter, as his tone of voice did. "At least try the jelly. Everyone loves the jelly, come on." He dragged the portable table near, so the tray was more accessible to his man.

"It sounds like an order."

"It is, if it makes you put something down."

"Oh, come on, look at me. I'm not SWAT anymore, you can't give me any order."

"You're _so_ wrong!" Hondo kept looking him directly. "You are SWAT till I say so! And now eat your dinner, Kid." He put the fork in Street's hand.

"I said I'm not hungry!" Street throw the thing away, making the tray tip over on the ground in a loud noise while Hondo had to move aside to not be hit. The plate broke, smashing the food all over the floor, and the apple rolled toward the door.

"You can't behave like this! You are acting like a baby. Suck it up, you are a cop!" Hondo had to hold himself from physically shake Street out of that situation. "You are SWAT, pull it tougher and react!"

Street sustained his look, acting like a spoiled child that doesn't stand authority, but also letting his heartbroken, fragile soul shine through.

"What is happening here?" Beth came in, alarmed from the yells, and stood by the door glancing at the apple at her feet.

"Nothing, he just had a little accident," Hondo said, not getting his eyes off the young cop. "Apologize to her."

Street this time looked away, gritting his teeth.

"Apologize!"

Beth ducked to clean up the mess. "There's no need-" she tried to say, but Hondo blocked her with a hand gesture, and made her look at her patient, waiting for him to say something.

Street huffed."I'm sorry," he finally said, but the rudeness in his voice was loud and clear. "I shouldn't overthrow my dinner."

"Good." Hondo turned to Beth. "Now, if you would be so kind to bring him some more food, I'm sure this time he will eat that." Hondo made Street look him in the eyes. "Right Street?"

The young cop reluctantly nodded, this time unable to sustain Hondo's look nor either the nurse's, not even for a single second.

The silence was audible while Hondo firmly stared at Street laboriously chewing the new dinner nurse Beth brought him.

"Don't stop," Hondo ordered, seeing his man putting the fork down.

Street swallowed, and reveled his tired eyes to him. The frustration was apparent on his face, but the exhaustion was even more. At that moment, Hondo started to understand that all that stubbornness had some more profound roots, that Street's willingness to give up had some more profound motives.

The look Street had on made Hondo's blood run cold. "Come on, you can do it." His tone was now more like once a father would use, less forcing and more encouraging.

Street looked away once more, but Hondo could still see his face clearly, he could still read him well. The frustration was still there, the humiliation right behind that. The light in his eyes turning off and reinvigorating his will to give up as much as the shame which came with it.

"Hey, look at me."

"Why are doing this?" Street turned to him, but his eyes still didn't met Hondo's. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I care," Hondo approached him and sat on the edge of the bed. "I saw what you can do when you are fully committed to something or someone; why can't you commit to this, to yourself?"

"I..." The look on Street's face got even colder. "This is no life that deserves to be lived." His voice was feeble and detached, a dreadful seriousness in it.

"I can't believe how selfish you are." Hondo jumped on his feet, he needed to shake Street off this. He was scared about the tone his young man just used and about the words he choose, but he was even more about that look he had on.

Street didn't react. Instead, he laid there, deadly silent.

"You can't betray us like this," Hondo continued. "You can't abandon us like this, we're not going to abandon you."

Again, silent stare at the void was all he had back from his man.

"Street you-"

The young cop's icy voice interrupted Hondo, "If I promise to finish the dinner, you'll leave me alone?"

Hondo nodded, almost resigned. He did what he could, now, he only had to hope that Street would hold on long enough for the time to heal him. _Maybe another visit from doctor Wendy would not be that bad._ _I'll ask her to stop by first thing tomorrow_, he thought exiting the room.

**... ... ...**

Lying down still as ever, Street didn't sleep a wink that night. Hondo's words about him being a traitor to his friends resounded in his head; the thought he showed his weaknesses to his boss and that he may not be able to be stronger than that ever again weighed on his soul. He felt cold from the inside and there was no warm package nor additional cover that could fix that.

Every time he tried to close his eyes, there it was the shot that caused him all that pain; there it was the silence of his room when he lost his sensation and Luca could not hear his cries; there they were the pity looks on his friend's faces every time they visited him in his hospital room.

The weight of Hondo's words eat at him all night. Maybe he was really being selfish as his boss -former boss now- said, but what other could he do? They kept telling him he needed to focus on himself, but when he did, he was being selfish.

Of course, he could do nothing right. It has always been like that, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he ended up disappointing someone.

He knew what the next step was after that. He was going to be thrown away. Although they kept telling they would never abandon him, deep down Street knew the truth; they will end to be fed up with him. It has always been like that for him. _Why don't accelerate the process? Why don't give up just now? Why-_

Nurse Cindy's arrival broke that flow of dreadful thoughts.

"Good morning sweetheart," she said. "I heard you had some trouble last night, are you feeling any better?" she lifted up the blinds for the weak light of that rainy day to come in.

The still look Street gave her back was a NO loud enough that she clearly heard it even if it was never pronounced.

"Well, this may cheer you up a bit." Cindy kept wearing one of her best smiles as she always did. "The last CT scan is encouraging, and we can start to lift you to a sitting position today."

A cold stare was all Street could give her in return.

"We'll start sitting you up gradually, and in the next days, you'll have your wheelchair to get used to."

Street's eyes didn't hint to light up. _How could a wheelchair be a good thing?_ The thought he will be forced to that for all his life was not a cheering up motive at all.

"I see, you are not so chatty today." In her voice a bit of sadness, the nurse's comprehensive smile started to weigh on Street, but he could still say nothing.

He did not care to speak.

"Okay," Cindy said, starting to lift the back of the bed. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll take care of you anyway."

As the bed was slowly lifted, Street felt a weird sensation in his stomach. Even when he ate, the back of the bad was never took that up, and now, it kept raising above the usual 45 degrees.

Street sighed, feeling odd, he was still far from a perfect vertical position, but he has not been that close to be sit up in the last whole week. For sure that was a new perspective.

The nurse settled his pillow, and as kind as ever, she said, "are you comfortable, honey?"

Street didn't even look at her, he could not stand that smile.

"All right, I'll leave you to your thoughts then, they seem to be important," Cindy continued. "Call me if you need anything, I'll be here before you know."

Street waited in his stillness for a few seconds, only glancing at the door to make sure the nurse got out, and then he relieved in a sound sight. That change of perspective didn't do so much good to his mood, he still had that weigh on his soul that didn't gave him peace.

**... ... ...**

* * *

**_Author's note:_**_ Sorry for the long hiatus. I lost my balance for a while, but I hope to be back on track now._

_Back to the story, we can safely say that Street is not in a good spot at the moment. Indeed, I think we reached the point where we can officially say Street passed from being cracked to be definitely broken. Fortunately, his friends are there, and that's what I love about the SWAT family: no one is ever left alone._


	11. Chapter 11

The cold light penetrating from the window was not enough to shake Street from his dreadful state of mind. The clouds had taken possession of the sky just like his dark thoughts had seized control of him. It wasn't raining, not yet, but the feeling that something was about to go down was strong in the air.

All was gray and blurry, even in the room, and Street's body started communicating him that something was not right. Nausea that accompanied every single one of his last meals awakened in him even without the food being present, and the sensation that the walls had started to move around was surely not a good sign either.

Cindy left him alone only a bunch of minutes prior, and he had no intention to call her back. Having the nurse with her cheerful attitude around him would not enhance his current state, so he tried to suck it up in the hope the sensation would pass on its own. In the silence of the room, Street convinced himself that he could not go crying to the cute nurse at every little thing; he was not a baby. He had that.

But actually, he had anything under control. His head was spinning, and his heartbeat accelerated. After a couple minutes fighting to breathe deeply, the unease did not hint to pass. And so, Street reluctantly pressed the call button. He had no choice because if he ended up vomiting on himself the situation would be even more embarrassing than calling the nurse back after only ten minutes she had left.

"You feel more chatty now, Jim?" Cindy appeared on the door, the warm smile still irritatingly printed on her face. "Oh, something's wrong, sweetheart?" she continued, quickly approaching, apprehension shining through her eyes now.

"My head..." Street painfully let out. He felt light-headed, and the cold in his bones was persistent. He could bet he appeared white as a ghost, at least that was the impression he had mirroring in Cindy's eyes.

"It's okay, honey." The nurse moved beside him and started to gently lower the back of the bed. "It's just a little postural dizziness, you have been laid down for a long while, it's pretty normal that you feel like this."

Street swallowed, even though he was currently laid in his more usual down position, he could still see the room spinning, barely discerning the figures that moved around him.

"Relax, it will pass soon," Cindy caressed his arm, and as much as Street hated to admit that, that contact made him feel a little better.

"Breathe normally and don't get down; we'll try again later, more gradually the next time."

Street could not say a word, he was still uncomfortably messed up. This time, his silence was not intended. He was not trying to ignore her, he just couldn't talk, and he couldn't do better than stare at her figure leaving the room.

**... ... ...**

_It will be a cloudy day_, Luca immediately understood crossing Hondo along the head quarters corridor. His boss had just got out from Dr. Wendy's office, and the expression he had on his face did not bode anything good.

A sudden realization hit Luca, Hondo went to see Street the night before. No one else among his team had that chance in the last 24 hours, and the last time he saw his friend at the hospital the morning prior he was evidently not in the right spot. Could it be the reason of his boss' conversation with the psychologist? It had to be, and the serious expression he wore fired up Luca's concern.

"Hondo," he called out, but the Sergeant seemed to not ear his man and went straight to the Captain's office.

"What's up, Luca?" Tan asked, approaching him while Chris immediately followed.

"I'm not sure." He glanced now at Wendy's office then at the door Hondo disappeared in.

"Is it about Street?" Chris gave voice to everyone's thoughts. "Did something happened to him? I tried texting him, but he went radio silence again."

Luca shook his head. "I just got here. I have absolutely no idea what's going on, but from Hondo's face it can't be anything good."

"If you are wondering about what the Sergeant and the doctor were talking about, I may help." Evans popped out in front of the small group.

"And how should you know that?" Luca asked, annoyed by the man's mere presence, to not talk about his attitude.

"Well" -the black-haired cop smirked- "I was passing by the office, and..."

"You eavesdropped their private conversation?" No matter how Luca tried, that guy just kept getting on his nerves.

"I was just passing by, the door was ajar, and I overheard. But if you're not interested in what I have to say, then..." Evans moved a step toward the direction he came.

The three SWAT officers exchanged a quick look, then Chris nodded to Luca.

"Wait," he said, stopping him, then sighed, being polite to Evans was not as easy as it should be. "What do you know?"

"Long story short? Your friend there, Street, is not in a good place at all. Hondo was seriously concerned about his state."

"What? Is his back..." Chris couldn't finish her sentence.

"As for I understood, I don't think there is any news on that subject."

"Oh, Gosh, can't you be more clear!" Luca's impatience took the lead.

"Hey, don't yell at me." Evans crossed his arms. "I'm just trying to do you a favor here."

"Please, go on," Chris put a hand on the man's shoulder. "What else did you hear?"

"Well, the concern is on Street's mood. Apparently, Hondo had to reproach him on not eating or something alike."

"Oh, come on! It's totally normal for him to be a little down, Hondo can't be all that worried just about that." Luca shook his head. His heart knew that the new guy was telling the truth, but his brain could not process the information correctly.

"Hey, don't kill the messenger, I'm just reporting what I heard." Evan shrugged. "Anyway, I don't think your friend is only a little down as you want to believe; the psychologist mentioned clinical depression."

"You must have misheard, I saw him yesterday and-" Luca suddenly stopped. He was about to say that the day before Street wasn't that bad, but it was not valid. The image of his crying friend popped up before him, and pain stroke his chest. Luca hoped with every fiber of his body that the talk he had with his suffering mate and the opportunity he gave him to let out his emotions as he did would help.

Evans shrugged again. "Well, right or wrong, that's it. You're welcome by the way." He smirked.

Luca shook his head, watching his new teammate going away.

"You think he wasn't telling the truth?" Tan asked as soon as they were alone.

"Oh, come on!" Chris intervened before Luca could act paranoid. "We are not kids, why should he lie about something this important?"

"Yeah, okay, but," Luca hesitated, "Street's condition can't be bad at the point Dr. Wendy worries about him. Was he the last time you guys saw him?"

"Luca, we all know Street well enough to tell that the more serious his troubles are the more he tries to do all by himself," Chris had to admit loud.

Luca sighed and looked down at their work clothes.

"Yeah, you're right," Tan said, "we can do nothing at this moment, we should just get to work and let Dr. Wendy handle him for now."

"You want to abandon him?"

"No one is abandoning anyone here, Luca," Chris stated. "If Hondo asked for help to Wendy, we should trust his call. After the shift, we'll make our try, but for now-"

"Why are you standing here?" Hondo interrupted them. "Gear up, we have a call."

**... ... ...**

Street's hands unconsciously clenched the sheets while he stared at the clouds changing shape outside his window. The back of the bed, lifted for him to be in a semi-sit down position, let him see the outside more clearly. That gray view was still a much more exciting attraction that meaninglessly watching the TV.

His head didn't spin anymore, meaning he was now getting used to the new position. Well, not that the improvement was such a great consolation; not after a week of complete silence from his lower limbs.

He was waiting. He could only wait.

Wait for Max to enter that door and reproach him for not eating his lunch, so now he would not have the strengths to complete the exercises. Wait for the man to force him to start that meaningless therapy, and wait to struggle in completing even the most straightforward task the physician would command him. Wait to fail again, to fail himself, to fail the therapist... Wait for his body to fail to actually feel his own body.

But what Street was really waiting for was either a change in his condition or a stop for good. Yes, he would stop. He would surrender. Street was too tired now to keep going, and that was the scariest thing. He usually was one who never gave up on something this important.

Street huffed, seeing with the tale of his eye a figure entering his room. He had to keep waiting, that was not Max.

"From your welcome, I see you were not quite expecting me, Jim," Doctor Wendy said, bringing a chair next to the bed and settling in. "I'm glad to find you this lifted up, it means that things are improving for you, doesn't it?"

"Not so much," Street shot back, turning again to stare at the clouds playing in the sky.

"How long have you been in this mood?"

"I'm not in a mood."

"How long have you stopped eating?" The psychologist glanced at the portable table, his lunch was still intact on the tray.

"Don't you already know?"

"I want to hear it from you," she firmly insisted.

"It's just my stomach. Don't get ideas." The only thing Street wanted was to cut her short now.

"I see. So this has nothing to do with your mood?"

Street unsheathed a glacial tone. "I'm not in a mood."

"Yeah, I see that too." Wendy put on a maternal smile.

"Would you stop, please, and tell me what you came here to tell me? This is just a loss of time."

"Well, I didn't think you were short of time." She calmly said.

A loud huff was all she had back.

"You know, it's okay to have a bad day, and it's okay to be in a bad mood. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it."

"So why are you all making a big deal about it?"

"Because this is not just a bad day, isn't it? You are not just in a bad mood, there is more, and while being sad may be okay, keeping all that sadness inside is not."

"I have nothing to say."

"All right; just listen for now."

"I don't wanna listen. I don't wanna share. And for sure, I don't wanna be here anymore!"

"There it is! Let it out," Wendy kept talking with a calm and reassuring tone.

"I'm so tired of people telling me what I should do." Street sighed. "You know what? I'll say it. I'm sick of not being able to live on my own terms while everyone around me just keeps telling me to be patient. This is not gonna resolve, why I'm the only one seeing that?"

"Did the doctors told you that?"

Street slightly shook his head, again, his empty eyes wandered to stare at the clouds.

"I thought SWAT didn't take quitters."

"I'm not a quitter."

"Good, because you are not doing any good to yourself quitting like this, nor to your friends." The psychologist paused, insistently looking at Street. "Your friends deserve better than this."

"And did _I_ deserved this?"

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know that." Despite Street being so harsh, Wendy kept the conversation on a composed tone. "You are too smart and thoughtful to not understand my saying."

"Am I?" Street whispered. "Am I worth them?"

"Your friends think you are. They think you deserve better, and they are fighting for you."

Street slightly shook his head, huffing.

"If you can't fight for yourself right now, you should think about fighting for your team at least, because you are hurting them by quitting."

Street took a deep breath, "I won't quit..."

"You don't have to say it, you have to demonstrate it. And to yourself first."

At that exact moment, like if it was a sign the conversation had came to an end with that wise advice, Max entered the room, ready to start with the therapy session.

"You'll behave?" Wendy asked him, a smile on her face.

Street exhaled loudly, but that was not a frustration huff, it was more like a deep breath of encouragement. Maybe talking with Dr. Wendy and letting go a little of the anger he had inside had not been such a terrible idea.

**... ... ...**

The heavy clouds threatened to reveal their fury on the SWAT team's heads. Their gears that in the hot summers challenged them, now, were motive of relief, protecting them not only from the bullets but also from that tickly air.

_It's just another breach_, Luca needed to believe, _only_ _a quick, simple breach and then I'm out. Then, I can go to make sure my little brother is all right. _He slightly shook his head to clear his thoughts. _Come on Luca, head in the game now. Let's go!_

His team was waiting for his move. It was Luca's turn to smash the door with the battering ram, and he loved doing that. It helped to get all his frustration out before the actual action started. As soon as he firmly took the tool in his hands, adrenaline started flowing in his veins.

The loud noise of the door cracking echoed in Luca's ears, the vibration propagating by the contact of the metal with the wood reached his chest making his heart pound. And suddenly, they were in the house.

Hondo was the first to put a foot inside. "Left side clear!"

"Right side clear, one subject down," Deacon immediately followed, securing a young man on the floor.

"Give me a two!" Hondo continued, and Chris immediately shadowed him, proceeding further in the house.

Luca glanced at his back, Evans was there, nodding at him. As soon as Tan patted him on his shoulder, the three of them went after the missing subjects.

Three men were trying to sneak from the back, but the SWAT team quickly rounded them.

"Metro SWAT!" Evans' voice sounded loud and clear. "Put you the guns down!"

"Put your weapon down!" Luca yelled.

"Get on the ground! Now!"Hondo barked so loud they immediately froze and obey him.

Finally, the guys moved as the well-oiled machine a SWAT squad should be. As the perfect high precision gears they were when Street was on the team with them, even if right now he was not there.

The thought of the injured Street, all alone and suffering, powerfully made its way in Luca's heart. The action was complete, and the adrenaline rush already faded, leaving space to the concern for what Evans overheard that morning take control of his mind.

_The breach is done, the shift is over. Hang on brother, I'm coming for you. You're not going to be alone._

**... **

Luca reached the hospital in record time, there was nothing that could prevent him from seeing his friend that night. Once he was outside the room, he inhaled deeply and leaned out on Street's door. Unfortunately, what he found was a confirmation of his worries; Street laid there, eyes fixed at his dinner while breathing heavily. On the portable table, to his friend's right, there was a half-eaten soup, and in front of him, he had a plate of spinach, still untouched.

Luca quietly got in with a forced smile on his face. "Wow, you really look like crap tonight."

"Thanks..." Street sniffed, barely looking at him. "That's exactly how I feel."

"Sorry to hear that, brother." Luca settled in a chair at Street's feet then threw a quick glance at the tray of food. "Hey, you should really not leave that over."

Street soundly exhaled. "What are you now, the food police?"

"Oh, come on. Since I know you, I never saw you refusing something to eat."

"I'm just not hungry. Why is everyone trying to feed me these days?"

"Come on, man! What are you talking about? You are always hungry. Once I saw you choke down 10 hot-dogs in less than 20 minutes."

"Yeah... good times." Street leaned his head on the pillow, his hands resting on the bed.

"Should I call Hondo? I heard he already gave you a right earful for this last night."

"I'm trying. Okay?" Street laboriously swallowed, his tone growing harsher.

"Hey, we're just worried for you." Luca made Street look at him in the eyes, his deep look crashing into his friend's dismissed one.

"I know." Street sighed, helpless. "I'm sorry..." He took the fork in his hand and started playing with the spinach, like a kid reluctant to eat his vegetables.

Luca watched his friend timidly bring the fork to his mouth. Street's hand was trembling, and he had barely any strength to lift his arm. Seeing him so weak and hesitant, Luca's heart clenched, but he knew his friend was not a kid to hand-feed, and that he had to let him do alone.

Street painstakingly swallowed three bits of food, then laid back and slightly moved the tray away. "I- I can't- S-sorry..."

Luca observed his friend's body language carefully, he was pale, huffing, and trying hard to control his gagging reflex. "All right, man; all right. Don't worry, I got you." He moved the portable table away, so Street didn't have his leftovers under his nose.

His injured friend nodded to him, thankful, not having the strength to talk anymore. Then, he heavily rested his head on the pillow and tried to cross his arms on his chest.

"Do you want me to call a nurse?" Luca asked, concern rapidly mounting in him.

Street shook his head. "I'll be fine," he said in an extremely low voice. "Why don't you tell me about your last case and distract me a little from all this?" He let his arms slip on the thin mattress again.

"Of course," Luca said, and once he was settled comfortably, he started to tell him everything about how 20-David saved the day again.

Street hardly concentrated on his story, the sound of his stomach cramping reaching Luca's ears. "Oh yeah, I can totally imagine you doing that." The young cop weakly smiled to his friend while he continued with his storytelling.

At some point, the heavy sound of Street's breaths drew Luca's attention on him. Multiple little drops of sweat descended on Street's forehead, and his body had started to shake.

"Hey, you don't look too good, man. You sure you okay?" Luca jumped on his toes, noticing his friend's hand frantically searching the bed for the call button while his face rapidly turned green.

"I think I'm gonna throw up." Street finally succeeded in pressing the button then took his hands to his mouth, but suddenly, his stomach turned.

"Whoa," Luca didn't know what to do to help his little brother, so he sneaked his head out the door and called for someone. "Hey, I need some help here."

Immediately, two nurses rushed in. One of them quickly moved to sustain her patient and not let him move around too much and risk to damage his spine, while the other promptly took out the sick bag and hold it for Street as he threw up again.

Luca watched the scene powerlessly from the corner of the room. He looked the nurse gently caressing Street's sweaty hair while he painfully continued to turn his stomach out.  
When in a quiet moment, Street's eyes met his, that helpless look penetrated deep in Luca's soul, making his own stomach cramp.

Street kept utterly vomiting for a few minutes, then finally rested his head back, exhausted.  
"I think I'm done..." He spat in the bag one last time and cleaned his mouth with the paper towel the nurse handed him.

"Well, I don't think you have anything more to let out anyway." One of the nurses gently adjusted Street's position in bed while the other got rid of the full bag.

"You should wait outside, Officer," the first nurse turned to Luca. "We need to clean him up now," she continued, making him glance at the bile and food rests covering Street's gown and bed.

Luca watched his friend's pale face, he hated seeing him like that, but what he hated even more was leaving him alone in those conditions.

Street nodded at him. "I'm fine, do what they say." He swallowed. "Believe me, it's better to not comply with their orders." Luca was not sure how he could do that, but his friend cracked a weak smile.

Silently, Luca left the room; what just happened shocked him, and he didn't exactly know how to behave. He started wandering around, aimlessly, trying to shake off his head the image of his suffering mate.

"Officer." The nurse approached him. "You can go back in, he asked of you. But make it quick; please, he needs to rest."

"Is he okay now?"

"He developed a fever, and his chest muscles are weakening. We will do some tests to see why."

Luca nodded, rushing back in. Street was laying in his bed, all sweaty, white as a dead, and breathing heavily.

"You still look like crap, you know that, right?" Luca smirked.

"I'm sorry... I wish you did not see that..." Street voice was shaky and feeble. "It was... awful."

"Don't mention it, I've seen worse." As much as it cost him, Luca kept smiling. "Just focus on getting better, alright?"

Street didn't need his friend to say it twice and rapidly fell asleep, exhausted from that exploit. Luca stared at him, his heart beating painfully; his little brother was again all sweat, pale, and weak. His heavy breaths sounded in the air, accompanying the constant, not so slow beeping of the heart monitor.

Something was not right, Luca could feel it, but he could do nothing more for Street then watch over his quiet sleep. So now, he settled again on the uncomfortable chair next to the bed, and observed first the IVs and monitors, then his finally resting brother.

Even though the hair matted to his forehead and the little shivers crossing his body from now and then, Street seemed so surprisingly calm now. "Be strong, Buddy. Be strong." Luca whispered, unable to get his eyes off that ghostly figure laying in bed.

**... ... ...**


	12. Chapter 12

A new morning had just begun, and despite the sleep didn't really reach her the previous night, Chris chose to stop by the hospital before the shift started.

Walking down the white hallway, she felt everyone's eyes on her. The unnatural lights didn't do her justice in her stunning black and white dress, which underlined her figure in all the right spots.

Chris stopped at Street's doorway, seeing a nurse all busy to care for her patient with the attitude of a nanny taking care of a baby.

The thin figure of the woman, giving Chris her back, was although, big enough to prevent the two cops from seeing each other. All Chris could see of her friend was the shape of his lifeless legs, well covered by the fresh blankets. Over him, there was the portable table; on it, a tray with a fruit platter and a cup of green jelly. In the corner, the usual pot of water, some orange juice, and a cup of ice cubes.

"Oh, Beth, is this really necessary?" Street howled, as the nurse took the fork in her hand.

Chris frowned; seeing that lady hand-feed her 30-year-old friend was not natural.

_How is it possible he came to this?_ She thought, recalling what she learned about Street's relationship with the food in the latest days.

"My stomach is already cramping," Street kept whining. "I don't wanna start vomiting again..."

_Vomiting? So it's not just a whim that he would not eat?_ Chris thought, deciding to stay back a little longer to let the nurse do her job.

"Your stomach is cramping because it's empty as the Sahara, Jim," the nurse said in a kind but firm voice. "Going on like this, it's gonna digest itself. Come on, open your mouth." She took the fork to his lips. "Do I have to make the little airplane with the food?" she scoffed.

Chris' soft chuckle drew the attention on her. "Sorry to interrupt." She got in, smiling at her friend. "You can go on, don't mind me."

"Wow, you are-" Street's eyes laid on her toned body, and the nurse took advantage of his like-a-fish pose to put in his mouth another piece of fruit. He had no choice but chew it or choke with it, so he started to make his jaw work.

"You didn't have to dress like that just for me," Street said, after laboriously swallowing his food.

"I didn't," Chris said, a big smile still on her face. "I just came back from a date night with Ty."

"Someone had a lucky night, uh?" Street smirked.

"A lady doesn't talk about this stuff, Street."

"I was talking about him, actually." A bright smile appeared on his face, wide like Chris hasn't seen on him in forever.

"Oh, shut up and eat your breakfast, big baby."

"Your friend is right," Beth intervened, "come on, open." She put the fork before his mouth and waited till he opened it.

Then Street slowly lifted his left hand, trying to reach his drink, but he failed, and the nurse had to take it for him, putting for a moment the plate back on the tray.

The sudden realization that Street was not acting like a spoiled child, but he couldn't actually eat by himself made Chris's heart fail, and her smile faded._ What is happening to him?_

"Is there any chance I can have some coffee too?" Street looked at the nurse with puppy eyes.

"Sorry honey, your blood pressure is already too high." Beth had once again the fork before his face.

"I had to try..." Street said, hopeless.

"Open." The nurse put the fruit in and waited until her patient send the bit down. "See," she made him glance at the half-empty plate. "It's not that hard, is it?" Then she turned to Chris. "I think it's your presence; Jim is more obedient when you're here."

"He knows way too well he can't defy my orders," Chris smirked and approached the two of them. "I think I got this from now. May I?" She stretched out her hands to take the plate and the fork from the nurse.

"W-wait," Street tried to object, his pallor leaving its place to light red marks.

"Of course you can, darling." Nurse Beth gave Chris the things and stepped aside. "I'll be back later to check on you, Jim." She smiled, leaving them alone.

Chris saw Street's muscle contracting when she sat down on the edge of his bed. She knew Street was not used to be taken care of, and despite that situation has been protracted for days, he still was not comfortable with that.

"This-this is really not necessary..."

"Shut up and let me do." Chris lifted the fork, taking the fruit to her friend's mouth while he had not the strength to object. Street was exhausted just for eating half of his breakfast. That meant his body was genuinely starting to degrade. The mere thought terrified Chris.

"So," Street forced his voice out between a bit and another, "why don't you tell me about your night? I don't have much action here... Make me live through you."

Chris knew he was trying to distract himself from the shame of being hand-feed by her, so she played along and started her story-telling. By the time she reached the point a lady should not talk about, the plate was empty, and Street was heavily lying on the mattress, eyes closed.

"Come on, Street," she awakened him before he could pass out. "The jelly now."

"Mmm..." Street whined, shutting his eyes more.

"Street?" she insisted, in a warm and soft voice. "Everybody loves the jelly, come on."

"Everyone keeps telling me that, but you're not the one who's stuck with eating this stuff everyday..." he said, his voice feeble. Chris found her friend's light brown eyes in hers, his forehead covered in little sweat drips. "Give me just a minute," he added, his voice getting weaker.

She nodded, half relieved to see the few calories she just made him choke down were already lightening his white face in more natural colors.

Chris fiddled with the cup till Street was finally ready to resume the feeding. He didn't want to go on, she could see that. If there were the nurse there instead of her, Street would most probably make her back off and play the donkey attitude. But there she was, and she resolutely placed a spoon of the green thing under his nose, waiting for his mouth to open.

Street winced as the cold metal touched his sore lips, then he slightly stuck his tongue out and let the gelatin in and running down his throat.

Chris hoped that the thoughtful smile she had on her face the entire time could make things a little more comfortable for Street, but she could tell how hard he was just trying to act tough.

"What am I witnessing here?" Luca's voice interrupted the kind caretaking. "Shall I go back and leave you two alone?" he said, getting in the room, but remaining close to the door.

The two young cops looked eyes, their cheeks blurring in red tones. Then Chris turned to Luca.

"Close your mouth, or you're gonna let the flies in," Chris smirked.

"You are..." Luca scanned Chris' body. "You're gorgeous."

"Thanks," Street interrupted, finding the strength to take out a smirk. "Gorgeous is exactly how I'm feeling."

The other two chuckled. Jokes were good, it meant their friend was back to himself. A relieved expression cracked Luca's face.

"You look better," Luca said, settling in the chair next to Street's bed.

_Better?_ Chris thought, raising an eyebrow.

"You made me worry last night, you know that?" Luca continued.

"Sorry." Street swallowed another spoon of jelly, thoughtfully fed by Chris. "I'm feeling better now, you don't have to worry anymore."

Despite his friend's words, Chris sensed it was not the complete truth. She could not imagine how lousy Street could be the previous night to actually be worse than now. Dang, she had to hand-feed him because he was not controlling his arm muscle properly. How could he say he was feeling better?

"Hey, don't tell me you're going to show up at the HQ dressed like that." Luca's voice brought Chris back from her worries. "You know what _this" -_he pointed at her figure- "will make to the already high testosterone level in there?"

"Oh, I would like to see that," Street said, his voice weak once again.

"Right," Chris said, checking the time. "I need to stop by my apartment before the shift." She looked down at the cup in her hands. "Eat this, so I can leave you two alone, talking about how awesome I am." She put a last, full spoon of the green jelly in Street's mouth, then she gently wiped her friend's face and got up, ready to leave.

**...**

Luca and Street watched Chris going out, hypnotized but her slim silhouette. Both having impure thoughts, they flushed and carefully avoided to look at each other.

Street knew that those feelings should remain just thoughts. They were friends, best friends, and the fact that his past attempts to hit on Chris were now only a recurring joke was part of that.

However, looking down to his lower limbs made Street sadly remember that _nothing_ was working down there, and that hurt his pride strongly, turning down his mood even more than it already was, and making it hard to continue pretending he was fine.

Luca cleared his throat, awakening him from those dangerous thoughts. _Come on, fake it a little more, Jim,_ Street ordered himself. _Just till you are alone again, don't make your friend worry._

"So you _are_ feeling better, right?" Luca approached the chair to the bed.

"Yeah," Street forced out a smile, collecting his energies. "The fever broke a little, and I'm not gonna show you my guts anymore."

"Glad to hear that, Buddy," Luca showed him his warm smile.

"Hey, how are things going with the new guy, Evans, right?" Street needed to change the subject to not be forced in telling the truth, and since his current condition remarked to him that he would not be able to jump back in action very soon, if not ever, he had to make sure his family was fine even without him.

"Yeah, you know, I'm starting to get used to the guy."

_So they are starting to feel his presence as usual... to think it's reasonable to have him around instead of me,_ Street thought, feeling hurt like when he was bounced from a foster family to another and forced to accept that no one will remember him after he left.

"I mean, I'm starting to tolerate him, not that I..." Luca frowned, acknowledging Street's pained look. "I mean, that's always your spot; you will always be 26-David. You know, he goes by 27-David now, that will never change."

Street forced out a weak smile. "I know what you mean. It's okay, you can't wait for me forever."

Luca's expression was clear, his own pain reflecting in it. "It won't be forever, you'll be back very soon."

"Stop it." Street's voice was now straight and resolute. "Days pass, and I still can't move. I feel weak, and I can barely control my upper limbs now-"

Again, Luca's look was as clear as ever, 'but you said you felt better,' it said. He evidently fatigued to accept the truth that Street was starting to feel that condition as his new routine.

"I'm losing, and I'm not gonna be back at work any time soon," Street stopped to take a deep breath, "probably I'm not going to come back at all," he painfully breathed out.

Luca pursed his lips, and Street hoped his look said it all, 'not another cliché phrase. Please, accept the truth.'

"I'm starting to worry if I'll ever be able to leave this damn hospital..." he whispered, looking down before his friend could add anything.

"Come on, keep fighting." Luca's words were true to his heart. "You need to believe in your healing, you need to fight for it."

Street was starting to be really tired, he felt his body heavy, well, the parts he still felt. The thought of giving up was so sweet.

"I'm not gonna let you surrender," Luca continued.

"I'm not..." Street looked his friend in the eyes, he could not stand the sufferings he was putting him through. "I won't stop just now, but- now, just-" he found himself not thinking clearly, exhaustion was striking. "I need to rest right now."

Luca's blue eyes peered through Street's soul, but one could do nothing to alleviate the other's pain. Street wished he could be stronger, but he wasn't. And now, he could just beg his friend to let him rest just a little bit, praying he would not stay worried for him for the entire day while risking his life on the job.

**... ... ...**

The hot, clear sun shining on LA didn't reflect the cold atmosphere that flattered along the HQ. It was like the walls in there knew something the SWAT officers didn't. Something important, something feared to be said out loud, and so, ghostly ringing out in the corridors.

The dreadful quiet of the locker room was broken only by the dense talk between Luca and Chris, reunited there before the rest of the team arrived.

At some point, Tan interrupted them. "Wow, what's with the faces, guys?"

"Is there something we should know?" Deacon entered right beside Tan.

"We both went seeing Street this morning." Luca sighed.

"And?" Deacon and Tan stared lip pursed at their colleagues.

"His conditions are worsening," Chris continued. As soon as those words left her mouth, pain drew on the faces of all those present. That unspoken truth was just revealed. "And I'm not talking about his mood, Street is holding up surprisingly well now, all considered, but-"

"Are you saying he will not completely recover?" Deacon asked. "Are his legs..."

Chris looked dark. "It can be even worse than that," she said.

"What do you mean by _worse_?" Tan said. "How can things be even worse?"

"His energies are slowly extinguishing," she continued. "I saw in the nurses' eyes they are worried sick."

"I was just telling Chris that I crossed Street's doctor before getting out of the hospital this morning," Luca said.

"What did he tell you?" Deacon's usual calm abandoned him in favor of the impatience.

Luca knew he was beating around the bush, but he really didn't want to say out loud what he learned from his friend's caretakers. "He wouldn't tell me a thing, but in the end, he had to admit they don't know what the hell is going on. The surgery went perfectly fine, so by now, Street should already be on his feet, but instead, he got some kind of infection, and he's losing the control of his upper muscles too."

"Wait, he is losing it all?" Tan raised his voice, the first time one of them dared to give out more than a whisper. "And how can they not know why?"

"The man told me they are doing all they can to discover why Street's body is reacting like that, but in the meantime, they can only monitor him and continue with the prescribed therapy."

"Can they really do nothing?" Deacon calmly said. "Only wait like that? There must be something they can do; maybe something we can do."

Luca shook his head. "Keep him up, keep him fighting, the doctor said. Just that, we have the mission of not letting him surrender."

"Do you feel he wants to surrender?" Deacon asked, his words hitting on his teammates.

"He is stubborn," Luca said.

"And proud," Chris intervened. "But he's also fragile like a porcelain doll when it comes to accept his limits and rely on the people surrounding him for the important things."

"Every time I stop by, I never know who I'm gonna find in that room." Luca let go a sigh, sitting on the bench. "Street can be the tough guy we know, ready to bust his ass to come back to work even though everything is against him, or he can be the scared child that curls up in a ball and doesn't allow anyone near him. It's a bet every single visit I pay him."

"We knew that from the beginning," Deacon said. "We just keep pushing him, like Hondo said the day of the surgery."

Stillness took posses of the locker room.

"I won't leave him alone, but, guys," Luca hesitated, "it kills me to see him suffering like this and to not be able to do anything for him."

"Same. But Street is strong; I know he is strong." Tan said.

At that point, Chris silently sneaked toward the bathroom. The other three cops watched her leave with the tails of their eyes. They all knew how that situation weighed on her, and they didn't want to make it even worst.

**... ... ...**

Muffled sounds and blurred images were all Street could discern around him. All he knew was pain now, and his energies defecting him.

He forced his eyes to flutter open, and the artificial light instantaneously blinded him. _Is it day? Is it night?_ He tried to look around. _Can this be the sun?_ Then he sharpened his ears, thin sounds of raindrops appeared to reach his brain. _It's raining?_ He glanced at his left, a thin tube connected his arm to an IV. _No, it's just the IV dripping... _more insistent dripping sound reached him. _Or... maybe... not?_

A shadow passed by Street's eyes, _a person? Perhaps a doctor? No, a nurse... probably?_

Alone or not alone, one thing was sure: he was suffering. But it was not entirely true that he was in pain right now. _Is all this... all my difficulties in staying awake... all my troubles breathing to blame to an unnecessarily high dose of morphine? Or maybe even to an excessive low administration of it?_ Street tried to glance at the IV on the top of the pole, but his sight could not reach that further. _Are they even giving me morphine at all? What the hell are they doing to me?_

Heavy gasps reached Street's ears. With much his surprise, they were his gasps. No one else was in the room. Or was there someone? He tried to call out, but he heard no response. _Yes... no..._ he was alone. But now, should he call for help? Was he at that point yet?

The few muscles he could still feel made his body quiver. Was it beyond that point yet? Even if he wanted to press the call button, that was a task that right now was beyond his capabilities. His brain could not connect to his body, and that thought sharpened his pain.

Sweat stained his pillow and soaked his gown. Air fatigued to reach his lungs. A constriction feeling clamped his chest.

_Help..._ Street said, or maybe he just thought it. He was seeking help now, but he could not make his voice heard.

Now the sweating worsened, and now a shiver crossed him. Then the suffocating air laboriously finding his way down his helpless body made his heartbeat skyrocket. _I dare anyone to say this is okay. _Street's brain fatigued to put together a coherent thought. _I dare anyone to try making me believe there is nothing wrong with me_.

No, there was definitely something wrong with him. Something truly and deeply wrong.

**... ... ...**

* * *

_**Author's note:** Thank you all for the patience and thanks a lot to the reviewers, I appreciate you taking the time to stop by._

_Things are going down here, slowly but constantly. Street may found the emotional strength in his friends, but his body seems to have other planes._


	13. Chapter 13

The SWAT members had been out all day, busy in the search for a dangerous fugitive, and now, they finally had a lead on him. Chris embraced her rifle, miming her teammates' gestures, _ready, set, go!_ And the 20-David squad descended in the basement the man was supposed to be hiding.

False flag, it turned out, and frustration grunts echoed in the cramped room.

The stairs squeaked under Chris' footsteps while she reached the top, followed by her whole team. Without waiting further, she pushed the heavy, rusty door that separated them from the clean air of the afternoon. She couldn't wait a minute more to free her nostrils from the moisture there was down there and find some relief in the hot sun rays.

Unfortunately, the weather had other plans, and what welcomed the 20-Davids outside was a gray sky and a cool, hesitant breeze. Chris instinctively breathed full lungs, and the smell of rain penetrated her nose and overwhelmed her senses.

While her eyes adjusted to that pallid sunlight, still considerably brighter than the inside of the building, Street's image popped up in her mind, so clear Chris could almost touch him. He was laid in bed, with matted hair and little sweat drops on his forehead. Her heart went out to him while he struggled to keep up his goofy smile, and his eyes clouded by pain.

Chris' arm hair stood up at the sudden thought the weather reacted to a worsen in Street's condition. _Something is not right, _she couldn't help but think. And although it was just a sensation, for her, it was real enough; the memory of her suffering friend was vivid enough.

At least, her squad heard from the radio that 50-David team followed the right lead, and the dangerous fugitive was now secured.

The void chats of her teammates permeated the air, but Chris had only one thought in mind. She took out her phone, her fingers dialing at the rhythm of her pounding heart. _Please, Street, answer me,_ she silently begged.

For 30 endless seconds, Chris stood there with her eyes nailed at her phone waiting for her text to be delivered just until Hondo's voice claimed for her attention. "Chris, are you with us?"

She looked up to him. "I'm coming," she said, and rapidly glanced back at her phone. Still nothing.

For the rest of the luckily short shift, Chris remained awfully quiet. To be fair, the whole team wasn't really up to jokes and chats, and that didn't do other than increase Chris' suspicion that just like her, they felt something was wrong with Street.

**... ... ...**

By the time Chris arrived at the hospital, a furious rainstorm had struck the sky. Fortunately for her, there was a covered car park, so she didn't have to worry about showing up at Street's all wet and dirty. She already had her dose of getting dirty for that day, and now, she only wanted to spend some time with her best friend, making sure he felt good and cheering him up if he needed to.

To Chris horror, the moment she was in sight of Street's room, all her suspicions were confirmed. He was far from being all right. The instant she saw a nurse hurrying toward Street's bed, Chris understood her worst fears just became a reality.

She followed the blond woman into the room. "What's going on? What's wrong with him?" Chris fatigued to control an alarmed tone.

"It's okay, honey. It's okay." The nurse tried to reassure her patient, ignoring Chris while checking on the functioning of the monitors. They were beeping strange, and Chris' concern, as the need to do something for her suffering friend, immediately build up in her.

"Help..." Street heavily panted. "Cindy... help... help me take... take this off... take this off me!" His voice was full of panic, he was shaking and sweating and had barely the strength to drag his hands on the back-brace while his fingers could not reach the straps and lose them.

"Try to relax, sweetheart," Cindy took both her patient's hands in hers and locked eyes with him. "I can't remove the brace if you continue agitating like this," she firmly said while a comforting smile printed on her face. "Everything will be all right. Just calm down. _It's okay_."

"I can't... I can't..." Street winded, his cries for help painfully striking Chris' heart.

"What's happening to him?" Chris asked, approaching her friend's bed and taking his hand as soon as the nurse moved away. "Hey, hey, I'm here, Street. I'm right here!" She said in a warmer voice, forcing out a smile. "Hang on, it will all be alright."

As Street's watery eyes met hers, Chris' throat closed. _Hold on, please, hold on! We can't lose you. _I_ can't lose you!_ She thought, trying to stay strong for him, but the monitors started beeping even faster, and both Chris and the nurse were out of options on how to make Street slow down.

Chris kept holding Street's cold and sticky hand while she kept searching for his lost eyes, trying to hook him to her reassuring voice. But there was no way to calm him, and the commotion around Street increased even more at Dr. Bell's arrival.

"Please, step aside; let the doctor do his job," a younger nurse came in and forced Chris to step out of the room.

"What's happening?" Chris stood right out the door, her eyes wandering in the room. Confusion and concern competed on who was stronger while no one would pay much attention to her.

_Come on, Street, you can do it_. Chris was paralyzed, the loud beeping resounding in her head. She could not take her eyes off her best friend, even though the pain that sight caused her was unbearable. The caretakers kept moving frantically around the bed, now and then breaking her eye contact with him. Street's lips become bluer every second, his face paler, the light abandoning his eyes. Chris immediately felt all the pain and terror her friend felt as they were her own emotions.

Among the doctor's various orders, the word _tube_ stood out, and Chris' eyes shifted to the nurse's hands, unwrapping some plastic tools.

"Jim, we need to intubate you," Dr. Bell said. "Relax, this will help you breathing better."

Chris watched, powerlessly, the doctor forcing the tube down Street's throat. Her body took her breath hostage, and her heart skipped a beat when she took notice of a little tear rolling down her best friend's cheek.

Gradually, the monitors stopped beeping that frantically, and the commotion in the room slowly dissipated.

_Okay, that's good... He's good._ Chris tried to convince herself.

"Prepare him for the OR," she overheard the doctor saying to one of the nurses while getting out of the room.

"Wait! OR? You are operating on him again?" Chris stopped the man. "What changed? Why is he not breathing now?"

"Alright, calm down." Dr. Bell thoughtfully took her by her shoulders and made her sit outside Street's room. "This won't help your friend. Try to breathe slowly."

Chris inhaled deeply to take back her cool, then demanded more politely about Street's conditions, "Can you please tell me what's going on here?"

"Jim's paralysis is expanding." The doctor calmly explained to her. "Due to the fever he recently developed, we suspect an abscess formed around the original lesion site."

"What does that mean?" Chris glanced inside the room, panic still persistent while her eyes laid on her pallid and now immovable friend.

"The fracture was on Jim's T6 vertebrae, the bound between thoracic and lumbar region. That was the reason he could not move his legs." Dr. Bell went on, "Now, the pressure has expanded high on his spinal cord and also paralyzed his chest muscles. And that is what prevents him from breathing properly."

Chris glanced again toward the door, her heart barely beating. "How could that happen? You said that-"

"It's rare but possible. Spinal injuries are never predictable; we told you right away. But don't worry, we are already giving him full range antibiotics to keep the infection under control. Trust me, we are doing our best to make him feel better."

"So you are gonna do something now? Not just wait, right?"

"New tests will tell us the exact position and entity of the abscess, so we can quickly intervene and drain it. Only then we'll know what the real damage would be."

"Then it's... it's sure that he will have some permanent damage?" Chris' broken voice barely reached the doctor's ears.

"You may prepare yourself, this is a serious complication. Jim's nerves may be compromised." Dr. Bell stopped for a moment. "But the only certain thing now, is that he won't have an easy recovery. Assuming that he will completely recover."

"What-" Chris head started spinning. _This is not happening..._

"I have to go now, you're alright?" The doctor kindly asked her. "If you calm down, you can go back into the room and stay with your friend a little moment before we take him in for surgery."

Chris nodded, not able to say a single word, wondering how could she face Street and how she should tell all that to Hondo and the guys.

She stopped and took in a deep breath. Before making that call, Chris needed to spend what little time she had reassuring her best friend and making sure he knew he was not alone in that awful moment.

**... ... ...**

A comforting and wounding silence overwhelmed Street, but deep down, he knew that artificial quiet didn't bode anything good for him. His senses were all blurred as if his feelings were someway shielded from reality.

The mild sedative the doctor injected him quickly started to take effect, and Street began to gradually relax. He didn't understand what was going on, he just felt numb everywhere, if he could feel something at all.

The nurse had removed the brace from his torso, but the feeling of being trapped didn't go entirely away. Now, he could barely move his arms, and the most definite sensation he felt was the discomfort of the plastic tube choked down his throat. The ventilator made his torso raise and lower at regular intervals, but Street could not stand its presence, feeling the urge to remove the thing from his mouth, but not having the mobility or the strength to do that.

With the corner of his eye, Street saw Chris getting back in the room and approaching him. Despite the fact that she was trying to hide it, her look full of fear scared him even more than he already was. _Did the doctor tell her something they are not telling me?_ He thought, trying to stay strong for not giving her another worry, but he was barely able to hold it together.

Street looked down and saw Chris was kindly holding his right hand, but despite all his efforts, he could not tighten it back. He kept watching her straight, his eyeballs being the only thing he could really control at that moment. _What is going on?_ He would ask, but the tube in his throat prevented him from speaking.

"I'm here, Street. Just hold on, okay?" Chris' eyes instantaneously shifted down to their hands, holding each other, a wave of pain crossing her look.

_She must figure out I can't feel her touch... why can't I feel her touch?_

"I'm right here for you," Chris thoughtfully continued speaking to him. "You can fight it. Can you fight this for me?"

_I don't know-how... _A weak stare with watery eyes was all Street could give her back.

"It's time." Nurse Cindy got into the room and injected a stronger sedative into Street's IV. "Just close your eyes, honey, and everything will end before you know."

"It's all gonna be good, Street," Chris said in a soft voice and rested her lips on his sweaty forehead.

Street felt his heart being whole again, and he would have smiled, if only he had the energy to. He could feel that touch. He could sense her affection. Chris' lips, soft and cold on his hot forehead, disclosed in a tender kiss, and then, she unsheathed a brightening smile and made him lose himself in her kind dark eyes.

Oh, that sweet contact was all Street could wish for. To his surprise and even more relief, he could enjoy every little second it lasted, and feel her heart beating for him.

"The guys and I will be right here the next time you open your eyes. That's a promise." His best friend forced another warm smile, and that was the last thing he saw before losing consciousness.

**... ... ...**

The deadly silence of the waiting room penetrated in Chris' soul. Just like every man and woman of action, she hated waiting. She hated being useless, especially when one of their teammates was risking his life, and they could do nothing for him other than, in fact, wait.

Chris' eyes had been fixed on the door behind which Street had disappeared for a few endless minutes before being able to break away. The memory of the sedated and intubated Street took away from her by the nurses tormented her soul.

Alone in that sterile room, her heart pounded incessantly; her limbs were restless, and the ability to steady her breath that she usually mastered so well could not come to her use. Chris walked back and forth for a couple of times, ordering herself to calm down. Then she firmly held her cell phone in her hands, but she could not decide which words to use to describe his other teammates that awful situation.

_Come on, Chris_, she inhaled deeply, her finger on the screen ready to select Hondo's contact. _You're SWAT, pull it together._ She exhaled, then she finally pressed the call button. "Come here. Street's condition worsened," were the only words she could deliver to her boss without her voice failing her.

_"You're at the hospital? What happened?"_ Hondo asked, the sound of jangling keys in the background.

"A complication, I'll tell you when you're here." Chris fought to control her shaking voice, she could not talk about that on the phone, not that she had much more information anyway.

Her boss's firm voice reassured Chris._ "On my way."_

"Hondo-" she peaked out the waiting room to see if there were any news for her, but nothing. "Can you-"

_"I'll call the others. Chris, don't worry, Street will be fine."_

After she hung up, Chris just sat quietly in an uncomfortable chair with her hands clasped and her eyes fixed on the ground.

When Hondo showed up, first among their friends, Chris was so immersed in her thoughts that it took her a minute to acknowledge his presence.

"Hey," Hondo drew her attention. "Any news?"

Chris looked up to him. All she could do was shake her head while her eyes filled with tears. But her will was strong, and she would not let them go, not in front of her boss.

"I'll go check with a nurse."

Watching Hondo getting away from her, Chris' heart split between the concern on her best friend's condition and the need for not being alone at that moment. In the end, the extreme worry won, and she stood silent, staring from a distance her boss collecting news.

"Surgery started five minutes ago," Hondo said, getting back in. "She couldn't tell me much more."

"But they took him in a lifetime ago! How did they just-"

"Hey, it's okay, Street will pull through," Hondo sat beside Chris. "They had to prep him, and we should not worry, they know what they do."

"Like the last time?" Luca's voice drew their attention to the door. "Can someone tell me what is really happening to Street?"

"His paralysis worsened," Chris coldly said, letting her training finally kick in. "He was not breathing on his own the last time I saw him."

"_What?_" Luca's tone grew acute.

"The chance Street will suffer from permanent damages increased, the doctor said..."

"Are you telling me that Street will never walk again?" Terror, more than concern, shone through Luca's voice.

"I'm sure it's too soon to worry about that." Deacon appeared from behind Luca, putting a hand on his mate's shoulder and encouraging him to enter into the room.

"Hey, Street is strong. Don't doubt that." Hondo said.

"Yeah, but just because a person is strong, does that mean he has to experience all this crap?" Luca objected, his words making Chris need to cry out her pain more urgent.

"I didn't say it's fair, just that it is what it is. We can do nothing to change the situation, what we can do for Street is to stay strong and support him whatever he needs."

"You are talking like Street would not walk ever again." Luca's attitude gave voice to Chris' thoughts, letting her keep up the stillness mask she was hooked to. "Is there something you're not telling us? Is it sure that he will not-"

"No," Hondo firmly said. "We're not at that point yet, and we need to stay positive. You heard me?"

"What point?" Tan said, entering the waiting room, followed by Evans.

"What's he doing here?" Luca harshly asked, jumping on his toes.

That movement caused Hondo to get up, ready to divide them, but fortunately, there was no need.

"Calm down, Luca," Tan said, putting a hand before Luca's chest. "He was with me when I received Hondo's call."

"Hey, come on, man," Evans said, "I'm here to support you. I know we started off with the wrong foot, but I'm part of the team now, and if my team needs support, I'm not backing off." He looked Luca in the eyes, staying straight in his pose.

Luca sighed loudly. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. Thanks, man. I'm sorry, I'm just-"

"I know. You don't need to say it." Evans reached the hand out for him to shake.

Chris exhaled, it was so good to see her whole family coming together like that for Street. _He would appreciate this so much_. She couldn't wait for her best friend to be back to them and show him how truly important he was to every single member of his SWAT family.

While watching with the tale of her eye Tan and Evans settling into the room, a sudden thought struck Chris. What if the next time that they'll see Street, they had any good news to communicate to him? If he couldn't walk, or he couldn't ever come back to the team, how would he react, seeing them all there? Chris shivered.

Deacon moved to sit beside her, a hand on her back. "How are you feeling?" he said in a low tone as if he didn't want the others to hear.

"Just like you, I guess." Chris looked helpless to his teammate. _Maybe just a little bit worse,_ she admitted to herself, considering how close Street was to her.

Deacon kept looking at her, that answer had not satisfied him.

"How should I feel? My friend is in an OR, risking-" Chris could not control a grimace forming on her face.

"Hey, I know the two of you are very tight, but you don't have to deal with this all on your own. We're right here."

Chris glanced around, the atmosphere in the waiting room was dark, but every single one of the guys was fighting at his best to hold on to happy thoughts.

"This is not fair, Deac."

"It never is."His calm tone helped her to slow down.

"Yeah..." Chris sighed, then listened to her heartbeat for a moment. "Street will pull through just fine, right?" She searched for her teammate's eyes. "In no time, he will be there annoying us with the new tool he brought for his bike, or with the all-new disaster his latest date was... he... he will, right?"

Deacon encouraged her, a serious look on his face. "I'm praying for that."

**... ... ...**

_**Author's note: **__I just want to say that I truly and deeply appreciate any feedback I receive. Thank you so much to anyone that stopped by so far to let me know their thoughts._

_The moment of truth is coming, and the team feels the pressure of not knowing. But they are all there for each other and for Street, and they will face any news, good or bad, as the family they are.  
As the doctor said, either way the road ahead is still long, but don't give up the hope... _


	14. Chapter 14

Half an hour had passed since the SWAT officers all reunited in the stark waiting room. Half an hour that seemed Luca a whole day. The palpable apprehension on Street's condition hovered in the air, making the atmosphere even thicker than it already was for the usual sanitizer smell that permeated the hospital rooms.

Luca got up from the chair, his legs were restless. In front of him, Chris had not moved a single muscle since the moment the whole 20-David settled in. Could she really control the tension so much better than him? Of course, Chris was the squad's most skilled sniper while Luca always had his foot on the accelerator, but all that calmness put even more pressure on him.

"Did the doctor tell you how long it would take?" Luca asked, diverting Chris' attention from the floor.

She shook her head.

"But it should not take long, right?" Luca walked around the small room. "As far as I know, draining an abscess should not take all this time."

"I'm not a doctor, Luca. And neither you are, so sit down and be patient." Chris glared at him, her eyes red, then she quickly lowered her head again. "You're driving me nuts."

Luca sighed; what he previously thought was a calm attitude was, instead, shock. Who could blame her? He recalled Chris' words describing to the rest of them Street's state when the nurses took him into the OR. He recalled the broken voice she tried to hide and how hearing that made his heart clash.

"Is it possible that they can tell us anything?" Luca sat, shaking his head.

"A nurse told me that the abscess is in a difficult position," Hondo said. "Give them time, no one here wants to see Street passing again what he went through in the last few days."

"Or things to be even worse..." Chris added under her breath.

Luca got up again and moved to the door, sneaking his head out. No one who could brief them was in sight, but he decided to stand by the door anyway, waiting for someone. Anyone would be good at that point. His look cut through the corridor, the strong, artificial lights hurting his tired eyes. No one came.

_Come on, Street. Come on_, Luca muttered to himself before turning his focus back to his teammates. It was easy to tell apart who were the ones living on their own from the ones having someone to come home to. In fact, Deacon and Tan were on their phones, most surely talking with their better half, while Hondo and Chris were quietly sitting a couple chairs apart from each other. About Evans, who had just stopped fiddling with his phone, Luca couldn't guess what he was doing. He didn't actually know much about the new guy's private life, and he honestly didn't care that much.

Settling back on one of those uncomfortable chairs, Luca let out a heavy sigh. That stillness was unreal. Even the cocky new guy didn't dare to say a word and break the atmosphere. Luca sighed again, odd to say, and all things considered, it was good to have Evan's support now, despite everything that could go through the two of them.

The time passed slowly. One hour, nothing yet. In turn, the SWAT members would get up, walk by the door, look across the corridor for a while, and sit back down. All in religious silence. Luca could bet that Deacon was actually praying. Chris too, maybe; it was hard to decode her expression since she kept hiding her face in her hands.

Tan interrupted the heavy silence. "Do you remember that time when we were chasing robbers though the park, and Street smashed one of the bad guys on the top of a eight-years-old kid's birthday cake?"

"And then he hijacked an ice-cream truck to make up for it," Deacon added. "He even paid the bill himself."

Smiles drew on the SWAT members' tensed faces. _Street was that guy_, Luca could read in each on his friend's look.

Chris sighed "You know, I think he's still in contact with the family..."

"There is no reason to think he won't cause such kind of troubles again," Hondo said.

Now, melancholy crossed the guys' looks.

With the atmosphere only a little lighter, Luca rested on the chair. _Street will be fine. He must be, _he kept repeating to himself until Dr. Bell entered the waiting room.

All eyes laid on the man in scrubs, his expression was hard to decode. Luca instantaneously jumped to his feet like all of them did. It could be heard a pin drop, not even the sound of their breaths were audible at that moment, perhaps because they were all holding it.

"You can relax. All went good," Dr. Bell declared.

"You mean _good_ like the last time or _actually_ _good_?" Luca objected.

"The surgery relieved all the pressure on Jim's spinal cord. It will not endanger him anymore, that I can assure you."

The impression that, once again, a '_but_' was about to come prevented relief from sitting on the team's faces for long.

"But I can't tell you anything about the condition of Jim's nerves yet, nor if any permanent damage was avoided. Not until he wakes up, and we can run some tests."

Hondo spoke for all, "Thanks, doctor. When can we see him?"

"Jim's in recovery room now," Dr. Bell said. "A nurse will inform you when he will be back to his private room."

Evans was the only one that went back to sit down, the rest of the team stood by the waiting room's door, hoping the nurse would come there soon. On their faces, the shadow of relief was replaced by the consequences of the last words the doctor said, _permanent damage_. That possibility was every second more concrete, and at that moment, the thought weighed on Luca's heart more than everything.

_I need to see him_, was the message Luca and Chris exchanged in a look. Seeing him in person was the only way the family had to make sure Street was out of the woods for real.

**... ... ...**

The first thing that reached Street while coming to himself was the air finally penetrating in his lungs without any problems. The second was that endless beeping in the background, its regular rhythm setting the time of his breaths.

He just had another surgery, and while trying to overcome the numbness of the anesthesia, Street tried to listen to his body and hold on to the hope that his limbs were gonna feel _his limbs_ again.

Blinking out of his dreaming status, Street saw his whole team appearing at his door, not really able to hide their concern with their smiles.

"Hey there, buddy," Luca said as the guys got in.

Street disclosed his lips to greet them, but no sound came out of them. A doubt stroke him, _am I still intubated?_ He let out a feeble sigh. No, he wasn't, _but..._

Although his mind was clouded, he could read the worry in his friends' looks, which added up to his own. Luckily, he could also feel their support deep down in his chest, always pinched in the familiar hug of his back-brace.

Street's throat was sore, and the image of the doctor choking down in it the plastic tube appeared before his eyes, reminding him of the scary condition he was in only a few hours prior. Well, at least he assumed only a few hours passed; all was still blurry around him.

The guys settled in; Chris sat on Street's bed right beside his laid down body.

Street whined, shutting his eyes, "Ouch... watch out please."

"Sorry, I didn't-" Chris halted and glanced back at the rest of the team. "Wait, what did you just say?" Her voice had something Street could not really identify, hope maybe? Or perhaps just apprehension.

"I asked you to be careful..." Street slowly reopened his eyes. He was still loopy from the anesthesia and asked himself why they were all staring at him so insistently. "You stepped on my leg..."

"Street, do you mean you felt it?" Chris stared at him, then she looked back to her teammates again, their eyes lighting.

"I-I... felt? I felt it?" Street repeated, finally exiting from that state of numbness. "Ow. Oh, Gosh! I felt it!"

A sparkle crossing her look, Chris gently rested her hand on Street's knee. "Can you feel this?"

"I-I do. I feel it." Through the veil of tears that filtered his vision, Street saw big smiles appearing on his friends' faces. They weren't pitied smiles, nor encouraging smiles. No, this time, they were genuine and sincere; there was a light in their eyes that proved all that.

"I can feel my legs again!" Street tried to slightly lift his torso and see in whole his lower extremities, but the back-brace made his movements difficult, and his abdominal muscles couldn't properly obey his will yet. Abandoning himself again on the mattress, he let a whine escape from his mouth.

"Calm down, we'll get someone to take a look at you," Hondo said while Chris gently pushed Street back down, and Tan promptly sneaked out of the room to claim for a nurse's assistance.

"Hey, did you see that?" Luca drew the team's attention on Street's feet. "Do it again," he said, slightly rolling up the sheets to uncover his friend's toes.

"Do what?" Street had once again closed his eyes, the anesthesia slowly dissipated, and his back was starting to hurt badly.

"Your foot, it moved. I saw it." Luca eagerly said. "Move it again."

"I..." Street hesitated, the fear he could disappoint his audience mounted in his heart.

But he had to try if anything to prove himself he could do it. Street took a deep breath and concentrated on his fingers. He had to concentrate very hard because his body was still insensitive and sore, but finally, his big toe slightly flexed.

"I knew it!" Luca clapped his hands, always keeping up a giant smile. "I knew it!"

Street heavily abandoned his head on the pillow again. Yes, he was in heaven for gaining his sensation back, but damn, it also meant the pain doubled now.

"Too much, too soon, guys. Too much, too soon." Hondo made his men step back, they were getting too over-excited. "Come on, let's leave him some space," he continued as a doctor got in to check on his patient.

Street observed his friends going out one by one, impressing their happiness in his heart as a useful tool to counter the pain. It was so good to see them all there. All plus one, actually. Standing by the door for the whole time, there was this black-haired guy he had never seen before. _He must be my replacement,_ Street thought. _Enjoy your time on 20-David, Evans, I'm coming back for my spot_, he repeated to himself while a little tear slowly descended his cheek.

**... ... ...**

The SWAT members unhurriedly got out of Street's room, but not before throwing a last peek back at their friend, now peacefully resting on his bed. Chris' heart exploded in joy; Street could feel his legs, he could move his toes even. He had a solid chance to come back to the team soon.

"I knew he could do it!" Luca's smile brightened the hospital white hallway. He could not stop hugging his teammates or patting their backs while repeating them how he had always known all would resolve for the best.

Chris smirked. She recalled differently, but she decided to not point it out. She didn't want to ruin Luca's happiness, reminding him of the terror and insecurity he had manifested until ten minutes prior.

With their heart light, the SWAT squad settled back in the waiting room. Before leaving the hospital, they needed to know from the doctor's mouth that their friend was indeed out of the woods and that those permanent damages he had vent before were definitely averted.

Five minutes later, they could finally breathe fresh air again, directed to their cars. The doctor said it was still too soon to tell if Street would recover a hundred percent, but he was confident that with the right therapy, the possibility one day their friend could go back in action with them was not too far away.

_Maybe one day..._ Not strictly encouraging, but for now, that had to be enough. Chris had Street's smile stamped on her mind. The light she saw firing up his eyes when he acknowledged he could feel his legs again paid her off from all the times he tried to shut her out and for all the concern that tangled her heart in the past days.

"All right guys," Hondo said, "go home, try to sleep. Shift starts in five hours."

Chris and Luca crossed their looks. Both of them had adrenaline still flowing in their veins, there was no chance they could get asleep right away. So, properly greeted the others, the two of them decided to stop by a late bar, opened all night.

"What a night, uh?" Luca sipped his decaf coffee while Chris fiddled with her tea-cup.

She shook her head. "I can't believe how fast things had changed."

"Yeah, one minute we are worried about Street never walking again, and thank God, the minute after we're talking about when he will be back on the team."

Chris silently took a sip of tea, she didn't want to ruin the atmosphere, but it was not all that certain that Street recovery would be complete.

"The hard part starts now, right?" Luca said, reading the concern in her eyes.

Chris started unconsciously to play with her cup, staring at the void.

"Oh, come on!" Luca made her look at him, his blue eyes wide. "Street is fine, and he will bust his ass until he can come back to us. Do not ever doubt that."

"It won't be easy."

"Was his life ever been? He is strong, and he has us. Right?"

"Of course." Chris smiled. "I'm probably just tired now, we should-"

"Avoid to show up at the HQ looking like zombies?" Luca smirked. "Yeah, probably we should go."

**... ... ...**

The flickering light of the sunrise passed through the half lifted blinds and gently caressed Street's skin. Enjoying that warming sensation with his eyes still well-closed, Street inhaled deeply. Not the way too familiar smell nor the wrapping back-brace always present around his chest could distract him from the sensation something good just happened to him.

The last traces of the anesthesia and the new strong pain killers the nurses administered him had made Street sleep like a baby for a few hours after the surgery. With his mind still vaguely clouded, he admitted to himself that he felt as calm as he had not felt in the last nine days.

A thought suddenly struck him. _Could that be only a dream?_

Fearing to open his eyes, Street moved his hands down to his thighs. Relief filled his heart when the signal his legs sent in response to the contact reached his brain. He could feel it. Then he looked down at his body and concentrated. With a little effort, one of his feet slightly moved.

Smiling, Street released a sigh he didn't know he was holding back. It was not just a dream. His lower limbs were still numb, but he could feel them again. Bad news, his back started again to send him shocks and waves of pain, unexpectedly and for no apparent reasons.

Street took a deep breath; the decision was made. He would not go crying to the nurses, they would fill him with drugs he didn't want. The pain was bad for his recovery, they said, but Street knew that relying on opioids for feeling better was not the right path for him. Considered his DNA, that could be even worse at long terms.

_Concentrate on the positive feelings Jim_, he ordered himself. _You got a little mobility back, that's good. That's so good._ He gritted his teeth as another wave of pain invested him. The sting was so intense he had to change attitude,_ Oh, this is bad, this is so bad_...

Street shut his eyes, and with his lower lip trembling, he utterly exhaled. _You can do this_, he encouraged himself and then started to count the seconds just like Buck taught him when he was a kid to control the pain and the fear.

_I can do this. _Street rhythmically breathed in and out, his mind had to be stronger than his body.

**... ... ...**


	15. Chapter 15

"Jim." A distant voice awakened Street from his nap. "Jim, I need to prepare you for your therapy session."

The afternoon sun penetrated the window, pleasantly caressing Street's skin. A warm sensation spread to his whole body, and when a gentle touch on his shoulder tried to make him come to himself, he instinctively hugged his pillow.

"Jim, come on, it's time," the familiar voice insisted.

"Mmm... you said it was only a light dose..." Street mumbled while his eyes fatigued to adjust to the strong sunlight coming directly to his face.

"I injected you only the morphine you needed, I promise." Beth's kind smile was the first thing Street saw as soon as his vision cleared.

She went on talking, "Don't you trust me?"

"How could I not?" Still groggy, Street unsheathed a weak smile.

"Are you excited?" the nurse asked while taking away from the bed the pillows that helped Street staying comfortably on his side. "This will be your first session of the new therapy cycle."

"I'm thrilled..." Street said, unconvincingly.

Not that he wasn't actually thrilled, but he knew he would not sit straight or stand on his own any time soon, and he felt that little step forward was still not enough. He was a man of action intense.

To distract Street from those insecurities, a brief shock of pain crossed his body while Beth helped him to lay on his back.

"How are you feeling? Any more pain?"

Street tired to wipe the grimace off his face. "I'll be fine. That last shot of morphine was enough, thanks. I still have it in my system."

Beth's eyes laid severely on him. "Are you sure?"

"Sure," Street confirmed. And he wasn't lying. That little moment he had while changing the position in bed was just a moment. As soon as he was settled again, the usual light numbness of limbs calmed his senses.

"Alright." The nurse kindly adjusted the last detail for her patient care. "Relax now, your physician will be here in a minute."

Street's eyes accompanied Beth's slim figure getting out form the room and then shifted up to stare at the white ceiling. An odd sensation hit the pitch of his stomach, his fingers clenched the sheets, a loud sigh left his lungs.

He was nervous. Street had not been that much anxious in a lifetime. That mix of raising hopes and fear to fail reminded him of the endless moments in between the social worker ringing the bell of the new foster family and them coming to open the door. _Will I be enough for them? Will I manage to live up to their expectations?_ _Will they be up mine, or will they disappoint me as they always do?_ He used to ask himself back then.

Now, Street felt exactly that way, with the difference that, current days, he was the only one responsible for his success or his failure. His own body was the one thing that could disappoint him the most. His will to fight for himself was the one thing that risked to weaver.

He was anxious, and he had no other choice than admit that to himself. _Come on Jim, everything will be fine,_ Street encouraged himself, counting the seconds in between exhaling and inhaling.

"I see you already started with the breathing exercises." Max's voice made Street flinch.

_How could I not notice the guy was already in the room?_ He asked himself right before greeting his physician.

The first part of the therapy session went just like the previous ones, and that wasn't so much encouraging for Street. He'd hoped to move smoothly. He'd hoped to be able to do more. Plus, his back gave him some signals of distress every now and then, and even though he managed to keep them under control, they made the process he was facing more challenging.

"Alright, Jim," Max said to an overworked Street while uncovering his legs. "The hard part now."

Street inhaled deeply. A wince shook his body when the man's hands laid on his feet. He didn't expect that touch. Street was getting so used to not feel a thing that he almost forgot that now he could.

"Rotate your ankle," the physician ordered. "Nice and easy, just like this." A hand under Street's sole and the other under his heel, he showed his patient the correct way to complete the exercise.

Street stared at his foot for a couple of seconds, then he concentrated and slowly started executing the therapist's request.

"You're doing great, Jim," Max's encouraged him. "But don't forget to breathe."

Completing the first round, Street soundly expelled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Then he relaxed for a little moment before starting again with the other leg.

"Good job." Max's eyes showed his sincerity. "How do you feel? Was it hard?"

"A piece of cake." Street lied. Sweat drops run down his forehead, his back had started complaining to him at half the previous round of exercises, and both his legs tingled.

The physician slightly shook his head, smiling. "Alright then, show me what you can do. Lift a leg, band your knee."

_Okay, this is the time for truth, man, _Street thought. _You can do this_. He gritted his teeth, and it took all his focus and strength to lift his left foot for just a couple inches. His whole leg started shaking, and he clenched the sheet under him with both hands.

"Don't stop," Max encouraged, moving to sustain his patient's leg in case he couldn't hold the effort.

Street bit the bullet, and his body tensed. He was shaking, and in the end, he had to surrender, letting the physician accompany his foot back on the bed.

"It's okay, you're doing great," Max said, putting one hand under Street's calf and the other under his sole. "I'm here to help until you will be able to do this on your own."

Street focused on taking deep breaths.

"Ready to try again?"

Street nodded, he could not give up. He would not give up. But hell, it was hard.

**... ... ...**

Luca and Tan walked the sterile hallway just like they walked the HQ corridors. Frightfully enough, by now, they were totally used to the white of the walls, to the nurses coming and going, and to the croaky speaker that once in a while would make a call resounding in the air. The smell, though, was another story. Every time, it triggered an unpleasant feeling in the cop's gut.

"I've never thought to say that, but I'm glad the judge is taking his sweet time to sign that search warrant," Tan said.

"Yeah, man. Those smugglers are too stupid to clear the place and leave anyway, so-" Luca stopped and tapped Tan on his shoulder, pointing at the tall man exiting Street's room. "Hey, isn't it Street's physician?"

They exchanged a silent _let's-go_ look and speeded up their pace. "Excuse me. Max, right?"

At the cop's call, the man turned.

Luca continued, "Luca and Tan, we're-"

"Jim's colleagues, I know." Max moved his duffle from right hand to left to be able to shake hands with the guys.

"So, how did it go?" Tan asked glancing at their friend's room.

"Jim decided to pick up the fight, that's for sure," the physician said, his expression implying the usual _but_.

"Of course he did!" Luca said, trying to ignore that hint. He desperately needed some good news.

"Don't get too excited. Breathing exercises and light mobilization was still all Jim was able to do today. He just got his sensation back afterward, and most movement are still forbidden to him," Max continued. "We are still trying to figure out if he would regain all his functions properly."

"If?" A cramp stroke Luca's stomach. "What-"

"That's not what I meant," Max explained. " Jim's doing great, but the road ahead of him is long and tortuous, and that means he will need a lot of help."

"We're here for him," Luca said, backed up by Tan's determined look.

"That's good because he'll need all your support, especially in this delicate moment of transition." Max nodded at them and left the two standing silent in front of Street's room.

After those words, Luca and Tan needed a bunch of seconds before finding the courage to lean on the door. As they did, the tense state they found their friend in fanned the flames of concern. Street was weary, all sweaty, and sticky like he just ran a matron even if he did not actually moved from the bed.

"Look at him," Luca said, stepping into the room. "Almost ready to jump back on the ring with us."

"Yeah... almost..." Street smiled a weak and shy smile. "But for now, I'm just ready for my sponge bath," he let out in one breath.

"Any cute nurse in your orbit?" Tan asked, sitting in.

"Not just one, they all love me!" Street joked, but his voice could hardly hide his discomfort.

Luca shook his head fondly. "No doubt, brother. No doubt."

"Are you, guys, up to anything fun?" Street inspected his friend's work clothes, his eyes barely sustaining their looks.

Tan shrugged. "Oh, you know, executing a warrant, kicking doors. The usual, right?"

Streets forehead became even more sweaty as he clenched the sheets in his hands. Luca frowned; the sight of his brother's lost look was unbearable.

"Street, are you with us?" Luca drew Street's attention back to him and his apprehensive look.

"I'm-I'm sorry, I-" Street said between clenched teeth, his face was reddened and his hands restless. "What were you saying?"

"What's wrong, man?" Luca approached the bed, his eyes carefully scanning Street's body.

"I'm just..." Street panted. "I'm hot..." He pulled the blanket down, then put a hand on the neck of the gown, trying to enlarge it. "I'm-I'm boiling here..."

"I'm calling someone," Tan said and promptly got out of the room.

"Hey, hey, you should probably not do that." Luca gently grabbed Street's hands, preventing him from scratching his thighs till bleeding.

A young nurse came in followed by Tan. "What can I do for you, Jim?"

"My blood is... boiling in my veins..."

"It's okay." She approached him. "It's just your circulation that is reactivated, it's actually a good thing."

"If it's a good thing, why is he suffering like this?" Luca's voice came out a bit too harsh.

"It can be excruciating, I know." She adjusted Street's position in bed and kindly dried his forehead. "It will pass soon." She turned to the two cops, "You should leave him to my care now."

"We are not leaving him like this."

"It's okay, guys. I'll be fine," Street gritted his teeth. "I feel something, and even if it's a pain, it's good." He laboriously swallowed. "I'm good."

Luca's heart clenched at Street's bravery. "We can stay, you know that. Don't be ashamed of us."

"I know. I'm not. Just leave me to my sponge bath, would you?" Street's attempt to unsheathe a reassuring grin didn't exactly go to the right end.

"We can't get between a man and his sponge bath, right, Luca?" Tan gave his mate an eloquent _let's-go_ look.

Luca took a deep breath. He didn't want to leave his friend suffering alone, but he felt he should obey to Street's wishes and let him work through his pain in private.

"Alright, but call me if you need anything." Luca gently patted Street on his shoulder.

"Thanks, brother." Street nodded at him, on his face, a weak smile trying desperately to hide a pained expression.

Luca stopped right outside the room, his breath was heavy but not as much as his heart was.

Tan approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah. It's just..." Luca shook his head, exhaling loudly.

"I know. It's like that for me, too, but we have to go back to work now," Tan said. "I'm sure the cute nurse will take good care of him."

Luca glanced inside the room, Street's painful gasps resounded in the air. Leaving his brother like that was one of the hardest thing in world.

**... ... ...**

Street fought to keep his focus on his friends until they exited his room. His heart broke seeing the worried looks on their faces, so he did his best to hide how much he was suffering, but the discomfort was too high.

"It's okay, Jim," nurse Lily kindly tried to reassure him.

She kept talking, Street could hear her voice in the background, but he could not grasp her words as his attention was completely caught by the blood that boiled in his veins.

_Oh, come on! I just got my sensation back, and that's what I get? I need to scratch... _He tried to reach his legs with his hands, but he could not bend or sit, and he could only reach the top of his thighs. _This damn back-brace! I can't..._

"Hey, no." Lily caressed his face and looked him deeply. "Please, don't do that, you'll hurt yourself."

"I can't help..."

"Yes, you can." Lily took out a needle, and injected something in Street's IV.

_Oh, not the morphine again... _Street thought, but before he could actually say something, he started to feel the drug relief. _Maybe a little shot it's not that bad..._

"That's good, right?" Lily smiled. "Just relax, I'll be ready for your sponge bath in a minute."

_The sponge bath_... the first one with feeling legs. With feeling the whole lower part of his body, actually. And sponge baths were another thing he'd hoped he could avoid now. He'd hoped to be more independent now because those things were not as sexy or appealing as they make you believe in movies.

"Hey," Lily whispered, caressing his arm. "You can let go know. Try to relax."

Street's attention shifted down to his hands, which kept holding to the sheets tight. He was shaking, and he didn't even know. He slowly let go while panting heavily, the boiling sensation in his legs not completely disappeared yet.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"It's okay, I got you," Lily thoughtfully said. "And now let me free you from this. But you know the drill. You need to lay perfectly still, alright?"

Street nodded, letting the nurse unleash the back-brace. He didn't know if it was a psychological thing or what, but that little gesture seemed to help him breathing a lot way better.

What he didn't expect was the feeling a million needles stinging his back when Lily touched him to remove the gown from his body. He couldn't help but let out a whine.

Lily caressed his arm. "I'm sorry."

"I'm good." Street hurried back. "I'm... good..." He held his breath until the nurse turned to take the sponge from her kit.

His eyes shut, and he painfully exhaled while his mind sought refuge in his memory to prevent all the controversial signals his body sent him from making him go through hell.

The wet, warm contact of the sponge on his skin made Street finally relax. The scent of soap inebriated him while nurse Lily waxed his chest. Her smile was kind, her hands moved thoughtfully on his body, from his shoulders to his pectorals and slowly down the line. Once she reached his hips, she skipped to his feet, then back up to the ankles and the knees. The contact was sweet, the massage on his lower limbs so pleasant. But when she reached his tights and proceeded further up to his private parts, uneasy flamed Street's cheeks. He could feel something. Pleasure he hadn't feel in forever, it seemed to him.

But that was not was Street wanted now. And so the pain became his best friend; he welcomed it, he focused wholly on it, trying to not embarrass himself in front of the pretty nurse.

Lily put on a bright smile, carefully draining his skin with a soft towel. "Done! Fresh and clean."

"Thanks." Despite feeling more comfortable now, Street felt a burning sensation crossing his body. _It's just the circulation_, he repeated to himself.

"Let me put this on you, so I can change the sheets before letting you rest." She carefully put on him a clean gown, and took the back-brace in her hands. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. First day with feeling legs... it's just a little weird."

Lily's smile was disarming. "I'll be quick, I promise," she said, and after keeping her word, she stopped and read the monitors.

"Something... wrong?" Street had some difficulties in focusing, as the pain in his back just came back to haunt him despite the previous shot of morphine.

"Don't worry." The nurse caressed an overtired Street, her touch warm on his clear skin. "Just rest now, I'll be back in awhile to check if you need some more painkillers."

Street's first instinct was to say, _I won't_, but deep down, he knew it wasn't true. His mouth opened, but all that got out was a sound sigh while his body abandoned to the exhaustion.

**... ... ...**

Grunts of fatigue resounded in the gym as the SWAT officers kept their bodies toned and their minds occupied.

Chris stopped riding the training bike as she saw Luca and Tan walking the HQ corridors. "Is the search warrant here already?"

"Not yet," Tan said, approaching her.

Chris stared at Luca's beaten appearance, asking herself if something happened to Street for them to be there so soon.

"Wanna have a round with me while we wait?" Evans called for Luca from the ring, but he kept thinking deeply, without paying any attention to his new teammate.

_Something is not right_, Chris kept thinking, fearing to ask for proper explanations.

"A round may do you good, Luca," Deacon said, scanning him. "You seem upset."

Deacon could always read all of them very well, and Chris was glad once more that he was the one to voice her concerns.

"I just wish I could do more for Street," Luca said, unsheathing a resigned look. "I hate to see him like this."

"Like what?" Chris' voice came out more fearful than intended. "Speak up. Street seemed good last time we all saw him."

"Fatigued. He was just fatigued for the therapy session," Tan said. "I'm sure he'll be alright. Give him time."

"He should better not rush things," Evans cut in.

All eyes converged on him but not in an amusing way.

"Unbelievable." Luca clenched his fists. "We're talking about a suffering friend, how can you be so selfish?"

"That's not what I meant," Evans continued, efficiently sustaining the guys looks. "If he tries to rush things, he can end up compromising his recovery. And maybe not come back at all."

"You wish!" Luca harshly said, ready to take that round here and now. "Street will be back, and we'll finally get rid of you."

"He has a point, Luca," Deacon said. "Street is not the most patient person we know."

Chris stood silent, hearing his teammates debating. She could feel Evan and Deacon's words true, but she could feel even more Luca's state of mind. She hated to be this powerless, either. She hated not being with her best friend when he needed her the most. Her heart lurched at the thought Street was all alone now.

"Come on! The search warrant is here, let's go!" Hondo's voice sounded loud and clear before they could even acknowledge his presence.

In five minutes, they were in the smuggler's place. Wooden door cracked and splintered under their feet. Yells echoed as Tan and Deacon secured the scared kids, because they were hardly more than kids, and evidence was quickly collected.

Another job well done, they got ready for the next. Or at least that should have been, but Chris' heart was elsewhere. It was in that sterile hospital room with Street. Unfortunately, she could not physically be there with him until the next day, maybe even the next evening if the job didn't give her a break. That night, in fact, it was Kira's birthday, and she really couldn't miss it.

But nothing could prevent her from texting him right away, hoping he would feel good enough to get back to her. And if he wasn't up to, Luca would make sure to let her know something.

**... ... ...**

Cold lights flickered in the corridor as Luca passed by smiling nurses. It seemed to be a quiet day, at least inside those walls. He proceeded quickly, hoping to find that same atmosphere in his friend's room.

When Luca walked in, a wonderful sight welcomed him: Street was munching the last bits of his dinner. He had rosy cheeks, ratty hair, and the showy back-brace kept him straight in his almost sitting position.

Luca couldn't hold back a smile. "That's the Street I know!"

Street looked up from the plate, and his lips curved into a sad smile. "Must be the drugs."

"You're still in pain?" Luca dragged a chair near his friend's bed.

Street hinted a shrug, the light in his eyes fading at the realization the back-brace kept forbidding even such a simple movement.

"I'll be good. My appetite is definitely back-"

"I can see that." Luca grinned. Then his eyes landed on the bedside table where an empty urine container was at handy for Street when he needed to use it.

"Oh, and I got rid of the catheter. You have no idea how hard I dreamed about that moment!" Street exhaled, his smile weakening. "I'm a new man..." In his voice relief mixed up with some other feeling Luca could not name.

Luca observed Street's sweaty hair, the bluish marks barely visible under his eyes, and the way he tightened and loosened the fork in his hand.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Street stared at the ceiling for a good moment. "I just thought it would be easier," he let out in a sigh.

Luca's heart clenched. "Come on, man, since when you're scared of hard work?"

"I'm not scared. I've been, even more than I like to admit, but I'm not anymore. An.. and I will do_ anything_ to be back on my feet and back to my spot." Street failed to hide a grimace.  
"It's just that... last night, when I felt my legs for the first time in what it seemed ages, I-" he exhaled loudly, heavily abandoning his head on the pillow. "I flamed. I got my hopes up that it all would go back as it was before."

"It will. Give it time. Don't give up." Deacon's words resounded in the back of Luca's head, _he's_ _not the most patient person we know..._

"I'm one that fits easily, you know. Had to be the way I grew up. But... adjusting to this is..."

"You? Fit easily?" Luca scoffed. "Don't you remember how long it took you to fit in the fam?"

"How many more times are you going to use that against me?" Street's genuinely smiled, but his eyes gave up his exhaustion.

"You fitted pretty good, though." Luca smiled back, as much as he wanted to stay with his friend, he understood that it was no good for him to keep him awake now. "You know, I'd better go now, early training tomorrow."

"That makes two of us. Well, maybe not that early, but I can't wait for the next therapy session."

Another little grimace escaped Street's control, and now Luca thought about Evan's words earlier that day.

"Take it easy, okay? We all want to see you back on your feet, but there is no clock on you, understood?"

Street nodded. At that point he was practically falling asleep with the fork in his hand and the empty plate in front of him. Luca shook his head fondly at the image of a baby falling asleep in his highchair for feeding. He moved the portable table away and lowered the back of Street's bed.

"Hang in there," he whispered before getting out in search of a nurse that could check on him, and then he silently headed to his car and to his empty house.

**... ... ...**

* * *

_**Author's note: **Sorry for the long wait, and thank you for your patience and support._

_Getting all things together is not easy for me right now, as it's not Street recovery here. But at least he's fighting, and his friends are fighting at his side, even though it's not so easy for him to let them in.  
Every time I write this stuff I feel jealous of how this family that not share blood ties can care for each other. For sure, though, I'm not jealous of what Street is going through...  
_


	16. Chapter 16

Electricity hovered in the air in Street's hospital room, as he, for the first time since the loss of sensation, laid prone and without the back-brace on.

_Something was wrong_, he'd thought that morning when his physician had ended their session earlier than expected, telling him that the doctor would have paid a visit later that same day.

Street had spent the following hours staring at the IV pole and at the painkillers dripping from it in the thin tube connected to his arm. He could have better spent his time admiring the reflex of the sun dancing in the little park —visible from his window when his bed was up— but he honestly couldn't care less about the view. He could not shake off the feeling his caretakers were hiding something from him.

The fabric of the gown grazed Street's bare skin while sliding at his sides and a drought caressed him. He was brought back to the present as cold hands moved on his back, and he was not able to hold back a whine.

With no rush, the doctor proceeded further with his examination. Street's arms and abdominal muscles ached for the tension; pain expanded in waves from the center of his back. The silence grew audible, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

"What's wrong?" Street gritted his teeth while the nurse helped the brace back in its usual place and made him lay on his back again. "Something's wrong, I can read it on your face. Tell me!"

Dr. Bell waited until his patient was all settled again, then said, "This severe pain you are experiencing despite being four days from the abscess draining surgery suggests we should do more tests."

"What does that mean?" A lump formed in Street's throat. Deep down, he knew that all that pain was not normal, but until that moment he had not let his mind go there.

"Your nerves are not responding to the treatment the way we'd hoped, which may indicate permanent damages."

Street froze, his head spinning. "Wh—what? You all said I was doing good! I can, I—I can move, and—"

"Don't give up the hopes. Nerves are a tricky matter." The doctor placed a hand on Street's shoulder. "A couple more tests, then we'll adjust the therapy to your special needs."

"_Special needs_?" Street exhaled loudly, heavily abandoning his head on the pillow while his eyes went looking for comfort in the clear sky out the window.

Those words made him feel anything but special. They made him feel an invalid. And the doctor's hint about this invalidity to be permanent cast a shadow on his heart.

"As I said, do not worry before time. We'll know something more later this evening or at the latest, tomorrow. In the meantime, continue with your breathing exercise, and if you need, the nurse will administer you some more morphine."

A dreadful coldness crossed Street's body. "I'm sick of that."

Dr. Bell looked sternly at him. "Breathing exercises help both your body and your mind."

"The painkillers," Street said blankly with the eyes still fixed out the window. "They cloud my mind."

"Pain is bad for you re—"

Street glared at the man. "Stop repeating that and find what's wrong with me!"

A fast beeping drew the doctor's attention to the heart monitor. "Calm down now, Jim, or you'll force me to sedate you."

_Permanent damages, special needs, new therapy, morphine, pain, sedatives..._ Street's head couldn't stop spinning. The doctor couldn't be serious, they didn't randomly sedate patients for a little agitation, but the man meant it all right, he needed to calm down. Street looked up to the ceiling and took a deep breath.

The beeping slowed to a more natural rhythm but still not completely steady. "I'm calm now," Street forced himself to say.

Doctor and nurse exchanged a look; there was something in it that Street didn't care to read.

"Someone will be here to take you to the MRI machine as soon as it's available."

Street turned his head to the window again, pain expanding from the center of his back for that little movement. How could it be at that point again? He was doing good, he was making progress. Painful progress, but still progress. But now...

_How can it be? How can I live like this?_ Dizziness forced Street to close his eyes and seek refuge in the breathing exercises.

_**... ... ...**_

Chris gripped one hand to the passenger seat and the other to the car door while Hondo pressed his foot on the accelerator and turned the wheel. The siren resounded in the misty morning, overpowering the shrill of the tires on the concrete.

"Dang it!" Evans yelled from the back seat.

Almost at their reach there was a black Sedan, heading Downtown at full speed. From the rear-view mirror, Chris could see the car Luca was driving joining the chase with the rest of 20-David.

"_We'll try to cut him off."_ Deacon's voice sounded from the radio, and immediately, his car disappeared in a side road.

It was a high-risk situation; they needed to stop the subjects before they reached a more populated area, but they didn't have much time. They surpassed a slower car, barely avoided a truck while passing with a red light, turned around a corner… Adrenaline flowed copiously in their veins, but after all, it was just their routine.

The thought of how Street would have enjoyed the chase darkened Chris's face. _Head back in the game!_ She snapped out. There was no time to go there, her best friend would have to make do with her report afterward. They just had to make sure it would be a happy-ending story.

"It's coming toward you, guys," Hondo radioed.

Luca's car materialized in front of the Sedan. The car suddenly turned and screeched to a halt to not crash into the SWAT improvised roadblock. With a squeak, the car Hondo was driving did the same; the seat belt pulled on the cops' bodies, and for the fraction of a second breathing was hard. As they freed themselves and grabbed their guns, an expecting silence resounded.

A shot; then another one. 20-David's yells to stop and surrender came to little use. Another shot hit the car door before Chris. They all fired back. Chris held her gun tight; she pointed it straight; she pulled the trigger.

She was the one who took out the first subject, or at least that was what Chris would tell Street when retracing the events with him.

In less than one minute it was all over. One dead subject, another one injured, and two wiser accomplices arrested without a scratch for surrendering in time. No casualties and no further problems for the neighborhood. The only thing that would have put 20-Davids in trouble where the bullet holes in both their cars.

"How are we gonna explain this to the garage?" Luca said, checking for the damages.

"You think they still run?" Tan added, hopefully.

In the distance, Deacon and Evans handed the two subjects they stopped to some patrol officers while the injured one was loaded in an ambulance, accompanied by some other cop.

Luca hopped in the car, the roar of the engine sounding sweet to the guys' ears. He cracked a relieved smile. "This baby will not stop for some little scratch."

"Yeah, nothing that a little makeup can't cover, right?" Evans said rejoining the group.

Luca and Tan side-eyed him. Chris held back a huff. If Street had heard him speaking like that he would have gone mad. He adored those cars they had, taking care of them and even more, driving them.

Rain started to fall abundantly, suggesting it was about time to go back to the HQ. All the way back, Chris remained silent, staring at the metal wipers in function. The adrenaline had cleared her system, and now her heart could go back beating for her best friend. Street would have given anything to be there with them that day.

Before Chris's eyes, it loomed the image of an overtired Street placing a forcing smile on his face whenever he saw her or another of his teammates.

It had been like that every time she visited him lately. Perhaps —Chris weighed her options— telling Street the story of fast cars, shootings, and SWAT saving the day again without him was not the right move that day.

But for Chris, the only important thing was to just see her best friend.

_**... ... ...**_

Street's deep sighs ricocheted on the white walls of his stark room, scarcely illuminated by the dull morning lights. His chest hurt; in the last two days, he had not been allowed to do much more than lay still and breathe deeply. Physical therapy had been suspended, it caused his back to hurt too much. Not that waiting powerlessly was any less exhausting…

And the doctor still had to figure out where all that pain came from, as the MRI was inconclusive and the other results were not back yet.

For Street, those had been two days of reiterated tests. Two days of nurses and doctors talking under their breaths. Two days of relying on painkillers to just breathe without suffering too much. It had been two never-ending days of fear for the future, of brooding over the possibility he will never completely recover. Two days of hiding the frightening truth from his friends.

Staring impassively out of the window at the raindrops falling down from the gray sky, Street realized he had enough of deep breaths. He wanted the wheezing he had for chasing a suspect at full speed up a hill and the shortness of breath he had for lifting up weight in the gym, challenging Luca on who could lift more. He wanted the pain in the muscles he experienced after a round with Tan on the ring. He wanted—

The all too familiar background beeping with its increasing speed awoke Street from his daydream. Hands unconsciously clenched to the sheets and little sweat drops forming on his temples signaled him it was time for breathing exercises again.

If someone had entered the room at that moment, and he or she hadn't got the answers Street needed to hear, the unfortunate would have experienced Street's outburst.

All that uncertainty on his condition made Street's hidden emotions a bomb ready to explode.

Fortunately for her, when Beth walked through the door, Street had already managed to compose himself, turning back his focus to the rain that cushioned the sounds of the external world as well as the echo of his internal turmoil.

"Sorry for the delay, Jim. It has been a crazy morning out there," she said with a big but tired smile on her face.

Street cleared his voice to hide what was really going on inside him. "It's fine. It's not that I have something to do here, am I?"

"Oh." Beth looked him, sympathetic. "Nobody told you, I'm sorry. It really has been a hell today already."

Street raised an eyebrow, annoyed. "Told me what, now?"

Beth disappeared from his sight for a moment, and the back of the bed gradually reclined to a horizontal position.

"Tests results are back, and we finally have a plan of action for you." Beth's smiling green eyes reappeared. "Your physical therapist will explain everything in detail, he should be here any min—Oh, there he is."

A black man, around-forty, entered the room. "You must be Jim."

"Wait, where's Max?"

"Well, nice to meet you too, Jim. I'm Leon," said the man who couldn't look more different from the physician Street learned to know in the last week.

"He's an expert in the manipulation of the column and ultrasound therapy. The next step for you to help your nerves and bones recover."

While the man prepared the needed instruments, Beth carefully unleashed the back-brace. A whine, difficult to control, formed in Street's throat.

"We hope this therapy will help with the pain, too," the nurse went on, always smiling compassionately. "I'm gonna leave you two alone now, Leon will explain you everything you need to know."

Finally free from restrictions, Street's chest swelled up while he took yet another deep breath to contain his feeling of anxiety and confusion.

"Thanks, Beth," Street managed to say in a recovered moment of good manners right before the nurse left the room. Then his attention shifted to the therapist and the tools he brought along with him.

Leon laid his dark eyes on Street, unsheathing a very kind look, which probably meant to reassure his new patient, but didn't achieve its scope entirely.

While explaining Street the details of his care, the man's voice was deep and warm. The words he used were quite comprehensible, too, but when he had rattled off everything, Street's mind went blank. Too many information and too much technicality.

"Breathe, man." Leon thoughtfully patted Street on the shoulder. "All this just means that if you trust Max and I, and you commit to our instructions—and by that I mean you do _exactly_ what we tell you _when_ we tell you, no more, no less— then you'll be as good as new in about three months."

Street stared down at what he could see of his immovable body, feeling Leon's straight but encouraging look on him. His ears ringed; _good as new_ was good indeed, but the _three months_ part was terrifying enough. The last two weeks in these poor conditions already put a strain on Street, another three months like that? If he would not see at least some kind of progress soon —real progress— he didn't know if his will was strong enough.

"Do you have any questions?" The man's voice came. "Shall we start?"

Street kept staring blankly. "No— I mean, yes," he corrected himself, raising his look up to the therapist.

Leon laughed lightly. "It's okay, man. I know it's a lot to take in. You can ask me whatever you want whenever it comes to your mind," he said, disinfecting his hands. "Let's start rolling you on your stomach now. Nice and easy."

Leon said it and most surely meant it, but the rolling process went out not so easy and surely not nice for Street. Trying to hide and bear the pain, the three months prognosis came back to haunt him.

"Alright, now that you're in position," Leon said, shifting Street's gown open, "we can start with a little manipulation. Just breathe steadily and try to relax."

As the man's big hands touched his skin Street winced and whined in pain.

"Sorry, too cold?" Leon said, rubbing his hands together.

"No," Street said between clenched teeth as the man laid his hands on him again. "It's fine."

"I see; tenderness and high sensitivity." Leon sighed. "Opposite of what we'd hoped, this won't be an easy one for you, I'm afraid. But it should not be a problem for you, SWAT officer. Am I wrong?"

Street could not say a single word, all focused as he was on not whining like a fussy baby while the man carefully proceeded with the manipulation of his back, hurting him more than he'd expected. How all this would help with the pain when it caused him so much struggle for just a back massage was a total mystery.

"Please, try to relax, Jim. Contracting your muscles will only make the process more difficult for both of us."

_How the heck should I relax while you're torturing me?_ Street would have said, but opening his mouth would have only led him to let out the cry he was so desperately trying to hold back.

"I'll say a five-minute massage is enough for this first session."

Street could not feel the therapist's warm hands on him anymore.

"This next part will be a little trickier, at least for this first time."

Leon disappeared from Street's eyesight only to come back carrying a chart with a little machine on it.

"But don't you worry, you'll get used to it pretty fast. It's not too complex, you see." The man showed him some kind of a stick with a metal blunt tip. "This is a transducer," he said, spreading gel on the tip. "This will help the transmission of the ultrasonic waves."

Street winced when the cold, wet tool made contact with his skin.

"Oh, don't worry, it'll warm up pretty soon. Actually that's what it does, mostly." Leon started slowly rubbing the transducer on his patient's skin. "You proved to be though, but if the heat becomes too much, tell me immediately."

Street felt the pressure on his back, not as strong as the previous part of the therapy but still uncomfortable. He tried to enjoy the warmth propagating to his back, but soon the tool heated up more than he thought it could. "It's hot..."

"Oh. Already? It must be the high sensitivity of your nerves." The therapist moved the tool on Street's skin, dwelling for a shorter time on each spot. "I'm sorry, this is the fastest I can go. I assure you this is perfectly safe, though. Your feelings must be amplified by the lesion, but I know what I'm doing. Just hang on a little longer."

Street closed his eyes, that was not much of a consolation. He wasn't one to surrender easily, but this... He couldn't hold back a whine. "Sorry. It is really hot."

"Alright." Leon lifted the transducer and turned off the machine. "We'll try again tomorrow. I can't promise it will be less painful, and I can't promise I will stop this soon the next time, but you always tell me when something is wrong, okay?"

"That doesn't sound encouraging..." Street said. _And they told me_ this _would help me with the pain..._ he added in his mind.

"It will go better. I promise." Leon gently dried the gel from Street's skin. "Patience is the key."

_Patience_... that word again. He'd never been good at that.

_**... ... ...**_

The locker room door crackled open; with an odd coldness hovering in the HQ corridors, Luca zipped up his jacket before getting out of the room. The commotion of the day was over, he acknowledged, enjoying the quiet, and since there were not active calls going on, 20-Davids were allowed to enjoy the evening as they pleased.

"I'm sneaking pizza into Street's room, someone wants to come?" Luca said, leaving the empty locker room behind.

Tan raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Street needs some real food. He's been eating that hospital crap for over two weeks now, I bet he's tired of that."

Tan smirked. "And pizza is real food?"

"You know what I mean, something that doesn't taste like cardboard," Luca said as they headed to the main entrance. "You're coming or not?"

"Well, if that bossy nurse —Cindy?— is on shift tonight, I won't miss you trying to fool her guard."

"What about you?" Luca turned back to his other teammate, who was silently walking along with them. "Chris?"

"Uh?"

"You coming?" he repeated.

Chris halted, forcing Luca and Tan to wait for her. The quiet all around was now starting to weigh. She looked up at the guys. "Do you think Street's doing good?"

"Yeah," Luca said, baffled. "Yeah, he is... I mean, he's eating more willingly now, recovering his strengths. Therapy is progressing, and he always has a smile for us when we go visit, doesn't he?"

"It seems." Chris sighed. "But he's always tired." She peered deeply at his mates. "And always hiding pain. At least he tries to, but with not much success. Haven't you noticed?"

Luca shook his head. "It is normal. The new cycle of therapy is more challenging, and he's pushing himself hard to be back to us."

Chris sighed once again, louder. "Too hard maybe?"

Luca held his breath; he hated how all his teammates kept suggesting that.

With the guy's looks on her, Chris continued, "I'm concerned he is. I don't know, but when I visited him the other day he seemed weary and jumpy. More than usual."

Tan's eyebrow scrunched together. "Wait. You're saying he's keeping something from us?"

Chris looked his two teammates in the eyes, alternatively; genuine apprehension shone through.

"Enough with the speculations! Just let's go see ourselves," Luca stated, starting to move again, and they all silently agreed.

_**... ... ...**_


	17. Chapter 17

The twilight cast familiar shadows in the SWAT's parking lot; Luca, Tan, and Chris headed straight to their cars, trying to ignore the prickly air that tingled their noses. All that talking and worrying about Street hiding something from them had made Luca even more eager to see him than he already was.

"You think Street will still be awake?" Tan doubtfully said before the three of them jumped each in their vehicle.

"Of course he will" —Luca hit his clicker— "He's not a baby under strict sleeping routine."

Chris glanced at her watch. "You know how tired he is these days…"

"Nah, he's a night owl, just like me," Luca said, opening his truck's door. "Believe me, guys, I've lived with him long enough to know he won't be sleeping this early in the evening."

"Or we can always awake him," Tan added, drawing Chris's reproaching look on him. "Luca's right, Street's not a baby, and I'm sure he would be disappointed if we stop by and don't even say hi to him."

Luca smirked. "To not talk about failing to deliver him the pizza."

"Yeah, I'm still not too convinced you will succeed." Tan's eyes challenged Luca, then shifted to Chris. "Don't worry, we'll find out what's going on."

Chris stepped into her car. "Let's not waste other time."

As the sound of her engine resounded clear in the evening's air, Tan and Luca followed Chris's lead, but while the other two headed straight to the hospital, Luca had to make a quick pit-stop to his favorite pizza take-away.

While he waited for his order to be delivered to him, the doubts Chris had raised on Street's behavior and body language kept tormenting Luca. Once he had the warm slice in his hands, he started his car again and drove in the silence to reach his friends as fast as he was allowed to.

It had taken a while for Luca to feel Street a part of the team and to understand how deep his motivation and his loyalty were, but now he could not imagine 20-David's family without him. He missed him on the job, and he missed having him around at home more than he would have expected.

Chris and Tan were already there when Luca reached the hospital's parking lot. They welcomed him with impatient smiles, and the three of them quickly headed to Street's room. When they got in the sight, nurse Cindy greeted them. Tan immediately glanced at Luca, who was holding the paper bag containing the pizza slice.

"What's that?" Cindy put herself in the way, staring at Luca with impressive steadiness. "You know I can't let Jim have that right now." She stretched out a hand.

"Oh, come on!" Luca put on one of his best smiles and unsheathed his puppy blue eyes, but the nurse didn't move a muscle.

"You'll have it back when you get out."

Luca grunted, handing the nurse the paper bag. "Don't bother. You can eat it if you want. While it's still warm…"

Cindy thanked him but didn't move from the door. "You'd better not go in with that face," she reproached. "Jim's already had quite a hard day, he doesn't need to feel your disappointment, too."

At those words, Tan's I-told-you-so amused smirk broke.

Chris froze with scrunched eyebrows. "What happened?"

"It's not my job to tell you," Cindy said calmly, stepping aside. "Go ahead and ask him."

Luca swallowed. Was Street's mood something the pizza would have resolved, or something that needed doctor's Wendy intervention? His teammates' glances confirmed what he was thinking, Chris was right to be worried from the beginning.

"It's nothing too bad. You can relax." The nurse nodded condescendingly. "Just get in and show him your support. He needs it."

When Cindy left them, Tan was the first one to get in the room, shortly followed by Luca while Chris hesitated a little longer, as if she sensed something was off.

"Hey, guys." Street put on a smile. "Do you really have nothing better to do than spend the night here, uh?"

"You should be more polite, we just finished work," Tan retorted. "And it was a rough day."

Street abandoned his head on the pillow, his eyes up to the ceiling. "Welcome to the club..."

Tan, Luca, and Chris looked at each other. The nurse anticipated the attitude, they should have known what was coming, but when they got in, the atmosphere in the room didn't seem that much heavy.

"I was here to take you some real food," Luca broke the newly created silence, "but Cerberus out there confiscated it."

Street's eyes widened. "What food?" He licked his lips. "No... You know what? I don't wanna know. I've already eaten anyway. I—I wouldn't have taken it."

Luca and Tan both smiled. The Street they knew, the one always craving for a snack, was back. But Chris, instead, appeared unusually tense. When she opened her mouth, Luca already knew the atmosphere was gonna change again.

"Is there anything we need to know?" Her voice was full of impatience.

Luca shot her with a glance, meaning, _damn straight to the point, uh?_

Street exhaled while stretching his arms alongside his body, his hands clenching and unclenching. "Cindy really talks too much..."

"She said nothing, that's why we're asking _you_," Chris kept prodding him.

"Alright, since nothing can get away you SWAT guys..." Street failed to hide a whine. "I had a few more tests done in the last couple of days."

The guys exchanged an alarmed look, not just for the tests Street kept from them, but for he talked like he was not one of them anymore. It couldn't be a good sign, even though the sound of Street's voice didn't anticipate anything that dreadful.

Since it was clear he had something to say but not much intention to, Luca encouraged Street to go on talking. "What tests?"

"On my nerves." A little grimace appeared on Street's face as he slightly adjusted his position in bed. It was like despite most movements were forbidden to him, he couldn't stay still for too long.

"Do you mean to leave us hanging like this forever?" Chris's impatience gave voice to his teammates' concern.

"I apparently have some 'neuropath' or something that needs to be restored, or decompressed, or God knows what." Street exhaled while his eyes closed slowly, but fought to keep the appearance of a smile on his face. "I don't know, guys, talk to me about the tiniest part of a sound gun, and I'll know what it is and where to put it, but talk to me about the nerves and things in the human body, and all I hear is that this thing will take more time and effort than expected."

They all fell silent, trying to understand where that talk was going to end.

"Don't worry too much." Street laid immovable, but determined eyes opened to his friends while his lips curved in a more convincing smile. "It may take more time than predicted, but it's not life-threatening or anything else."

Despite Street's pained voice as those words reached Luca's ears, his heart started to beat again. "You made us worry."

Street sighed. "I feel you. They left me hanging for way longer than one minute."

Chris's eyes insistently scanned him. "You said this has been going on in the last couple of days. Why didn't you say something?"

Luca's heart skipped a beat as he realized how hard it must have been for his friend to not know what was going on with his body in the last two days and how hard it must have been to keep the secret with his them.

"I—" Street grimaced again, hinting a shrug. Then he took in a deep breath. "The doctor stated the feelings I'm experiencing weren't good and then vented about permanent damages being an actual thing. I—I guess I just took a big scare..."

"That's one more reason you should have told us!" Luca reproached him. The image of his friend freaking out all alone and trying to deal with it on his own was a punch in the stomach.

"I didn't want to make you worry for nothing."

Chris kept looking him straight. "Guess what? We did anyway."

"Sorry..." Street's begging eyes sparkled toward his teammates.

Luca's gears couldn't stop running, processing all the information. Street had reassured them about the absence of permanent damages. That was a great thing. He had admitted he was scared and he had admitted he was trying to act thought for them. That was almost heartbreaking. Street had shown them both his weaknesses and his strength, but there was still something he had not told them. Luca could sense that. A realization dawned on him. "You're suffering a lot, aren't you?"

Pain drew on Chris and Tan's faces, too.

"Oh... I'm trying not to think about it..." Street smiled weakly. "The best part is that the doctor said the new treatment will help with my sufferings, but when the therapist took a closer look at me, he predicted the healing will only come after a painful process" —his voice faded lightly— "And it was no joke."

Luca's heart lurched. "I'm sorry to hear that, man."

"It's okay. They say that if I can last only a bit longer, I'll see the benefits long terms."

Luca, Chris, and Tan stared silently. In the air, it hovered the feeling someone should say something to encourage him or to help him, but no one knew what, or how, nor would have been the one to say the wrong thing.

"And they have good drugs... which they are not afraid of administering to me..." Street sighed, looking up the IV pole. "I'm gonna heal… eventually... but I'm dreaming of the day I won't need morphine anymore..."

_Eventually_. Luca's stomach cramped. "If there's anything we can do for you, just name it."

Tan nodded while Chris added, "And don't keep such things from us ever again. You know, there are things called cell phones, and as long as I know, you have a perfectly functioning one."

"Don't worry, guys. No matter how long or painful this will be, I'll be back."

"Good to hear, brother, because I'm counting on that."

"Yeah," Tan said, "Luca's gonna kill Evans someday if you don't come back to your spot soon."

Luca knew Tan was only trying to lighten the mood, but actually, it was not so far from the truth. Despite the progress they had done lately, he still couldn't stand that guy.

Chris stood unusually quiet, flinching at every suffocated whine that escaped Street's mouth. She was just about to approach the bed and say something when the nurse entered the room.

"Alright officers, you may go now," Cindy ordered. "Jim has to rest."

Luca huffed. "One more minute, please, we're—"

"Sorry. It's time for Jim to sleep. Tomorrow he'll have a longer session of his new ultrasound therapy, and his physician will add new exercises to his current PT schedule." She turned to her patient and smiled. "It's a big day."

"We'll not get in the way then." Luca smiled, encouragingly, while trying to hide the weight that seeing Street suffering like that put on his heart. He knew he had to focus on his friend's positive attitude and not on the sufferings he was currently enduring.

Luca glanced at Chris's apprehensive expression; he usually was a positive person, and that was what his teammates needed now. "Sleep well," he added before the three of them headed out. Then he stopped by the door and smirked at Street. "I will for sure. You know, it's really quiet at home lately."

Once out in the corridor, away from Street's eyes, Chris and Tan's expression mirrored perfectly what Luca was feeling inside. They could do nothing for their suffering friend, and the fact that Street was Street, always trying to handle his pain by himself, didn't help them feel less powerless.

"You heard the nurse, right?" Tan said as they walked out. "He's making progress. He will be back on his feet in no time."

Chris paced silently, without raising her look from the linoleum floor.

"Yeah." Luca smiled. "And we all heard Street. He's positive, and he's keeping up. He will do this." His heart clenched while pronouncing those words. Luca wanted to believe them, he wanted to ignore the pain Street was hiding and wanted to focus on his positive attitude, but it was not the easiest thing to do, even for the optimistic person he was.

_**... ... ...**_

* * *

**_Author's note: _**_I need to thank Ivedonestranger for the precious proofreading job and continue support he gave me until now. Unfortunately, these are exceptional times, and so, since last chapter (no. 16) I'm flying solo. But do not worry, I'm working very hard on this story and on making this isolation time productive. _

_That said, I know this chapter was pretty short compared to usual, but I'm thinking about making shorter updates but hopefully, more frequent._

_Thank you for sticking with me, and stay safe everyone!_


	18. Chapter 18

The same pale glow that woke Street that early morning had kept filtering into the room from the big window all day. A positive feeling had woken up inside him, too, but that was a sensation that lasted only a few hours. Only until his physician, Max, had come with his new PT schedule.

Despite being already tried by the morning session with Max, that afternoon, Street expected Leon anxiously. All those new exercises for his upper muscles —hands, arms, chest, and upper back— while he still could not force too much on the lower back or legs, proved harder than expected.

That struggle, as it was the new norm for him now, had led the nurse to administer Street an extra dose of morphine. Exhaustion and painkillers caused him to nap for the majority of the day, so when he opened his eyes to his therapist, Street was still a little cloud-minded.

"Ready for our session, Jim?"

Street blinked a couple of times to adjust to the afternoon sun that now brightened the room. An odd sensation of lightness pleased him as he inhaled deeply. Perplexity cleared his head; he didn't recall the nurse or the therapist removing the back-brace from him. "Would it make any difference if I say no?"

"I consulted with Max earlier. He said you had some difficulties accomplishing your PT today," Leon said, disinfecting his hands before touching his patient. "Let's see if I can do something for you, alright?"

While the therapist helped him laying on his stomach, Street utterly exhaled. "Are you gonna do the same thing you did yesterday?"

Leon rubbed his hands together. "A more intensive back and leg massage and a little longer ultrasound session."

When the man laid his hands on Street's shoulders and made the gown to slide open, Street stiffened. "Then you can't do anything good for me."

"I know that adapting to this kind of therapy can be quite unpleasant."

If he wasn't holding his breath, Street would have snorted at the statement.

"But I assure you," Leon continued, "that all this pain you're feeling is necessary for you to overcome a full recovery. You'll see the benefit very soon. And now try to relax," he said, pressing a little harder on the center of Street's back.

Street shivered for a shockwave crossing his spine. His vision clouded, and he shut his eyes, hardly holding back a cry. _When did they go from 'pain is bad for your recovery' to 'pain is necessary for getting better'? _

"And keep breathing," Leon added.

The torture seemed to be going on forever when, finally, the therapist moved down to massage Street's legs. The manipulation felt more comfortable, but still not entirely painless. Street focused on his breathing, and in less than he expected, Leon was ready to move on to the ultrasound therapy.

Unlike the day before, Street knew what was ahead of him, and for that, he didn't look forward to this second session with the machine.

Leon passed the instrument on Street's skin, the light pressure, despite being gentle, caused a sting to extend back and forth his back. The tool, now nicely warm, was going to heat up quickly, Street anticipated, and not in a pleasant way.

Soon enough, the hot sensation, initially concentrated on the site of the lesion, spread to his whole back. Sweat drops multiplied on Street's forehead, armpits, and chest while every muscle in his body contracted. Gradually, the temperature raised, and the contact of the instrument with the skin became hard to bear.

"We're almost done," Leon encouraged him. "Don't forget to breathe, Jim."

Street concentrated on counting the seconds between exhaling and inhaling, again and again, until the therapist was done with the hell machine.

Leon rested a hand on Street's shoulder and bent to face him. "Talk to me, Jim. How are you doing?"

"How do I look to you?"

Leon smiled. "Sticky."

With the little energy he still had, Street smiled back.

"Ready to roll on your side? You know you can't lay on your stomach for too long."

As Street nodded, the therapist gently helped him turn, and soon, he was facing the door.

"You did good today. I don't know what Max was talking about earlier," Leon smirked while starting to put his tools away. "Or maybe it's just my presence?"

"That's because you always do all the work," Street let out in one breath.

"What? No, you did great! I know all this it's not easy to bear and to reward you, if you promise to stay very still, I'll recommend the nurse to let you keep the brace off for the next hour."

"That'll be—" a shiver crossed Street's body, and he had to fight not to move. "That will be terrific."

"That's a deal then!" Leon smiled widely, turned, and headed toward the door. Then, without looking back at his patient, he said, "I'll send in a nurse to take care of the residual pain. See you tomorrow."

Street breathed deeply. He knew what the therapist meant: painkillers. And at the moment, he hated but yet loved the idea so much...

_**... ... ... **_

The endless shift was finally over. Chris had been waiting to go see her best friend all day. Her desire grew that late morning when Tan and Deacon stopped by the hospital after questioning an informant nearby and came back to her with upsetting news.

They had found Street deep asleep, and the nurse had explained to them what a hard time their friend was having with the new phase of his rehabilitation program. At that report, 20-Davids had looked at each other, eyes full of ache and pity.

The night was falling. Nonetheless, the heat of the day had not yet totally dissipated, making Chris and Tan experience a little shiver entering in the air-conditioned hospital.

They silently walked down the hallway, both trying to prepare themselves to the sight of their friend and wishing he would be happy to see them.

Nurse Lily crossed her look with Tan. "You're already back."

"Yeah, Street was pretty messed up when I left him earlier. I couldn't go to sleep without checking on him again."

Chris shifted nervously and jumped in their talking, "Any changes after the new approach of therapy?"

The nurse shook her head while her full lips curved in a condescending smile. "It was only one session. You can't expect a miracle from it."

"Yeah, I know..." Chris sighed.

Tan insistently scanned the nurse. "Is there something wrong?"

A compassionate look drew on Lily's face. "Jim was experiencing some severe back pain after the last rehab session, and we had to increase the painkillers' dose."

The two cops glanced at Street's room. The thought of how much their friend kept suffering was hard to bear.

"Thank you," Tan said. "Can we see him now?"

"Of course, but I should warn you," Lily leaned toward them and lowered her tone. "Jim's having a funny reaction to the extra dose of morphine I just gave him."

Chris's eyes flashed at Tan, then the two rapidly greeted the nurse and went toward Street's room. _A funny reaction was better than seeing him whining in pain_...

When the two SWAT got in, they found their friend laying eyes closed with a little grin on his face, still marked by the exhaustion of the day.

"Hey." Chris advanced cautiously. "Street, are you awake?"

"Chris?" Street narrowed his eyes. "Hey, Chris…" He reached his hand out for her to grab.

She approached the bed and promptly took his hand. "Yeah, it's me."

Street locked eyes with her and whispered, "I love you."

Chris's heart stopped; her cheeks burned, and while Street tightened the grip on her hand, she tried to loosen it. He was smiling, lost in her eyes, but Chris rapidly glanced at her back to see if Tan had heard those words. He did, his stunned and embarrassed expression said it all.

Before any sound could come out of Chris's mouth, Street's eyes shifted from her to his other teammate, and he continued, "Tan, oh, I love you, too, my man!"

Tan grinned, shaking his head while Chris's chest felt suddenly lighter. It was not _that_ kind of love; she relived in a loud sigh. That was surely not the time to talk about feelings. Actually, it never was the time to address _that kind _of emotions. Not between the two of them.

Street closed his eyes again. "I love you all! I love Deac, and Luca, and— and— Hondo, and—"

"Oh, yeah, the nurse was right," Tan smirked. "He is high as hell."

"And Hicks, I love Hicks, too…" A ridiculously gracious smile cracked Street's face. "Tell him I said that," he muttered. "You are my family! I love my family…"

"Yeah, okay, man." Tan gently patted Street on the upper chest, beaming widely. "We love you, too."

Chris couldn't do better than stand there silent, still paralyzed for what had just come out of Street's mouth. When he said he loved her, she had no trouble believing it, and that terrified her. She could not afford that kind of love from him.

Street now laid quiet, eyes well closed. "Can I have an ice-cream now, mom?"

Chris and Tan's eyes met; he shrugged. _Yes, he is high, no doubt on that_, they silently acknowledged.

"Street, it's us. You're in the hospital, remember?" Chris kindly said, closing her other hand on their already gripped ones.

"I can't have the ice-cream, then?" Street's puppy eyes looked up at his friends.

"Oh, I think you already had your sweet for today," Chris said, making Tan chuckle.

"Sweet! Sweeeeetttt..." Street giggled. "What a funny word, swwweet!"

"Oookay," Tan shook his head fondly. "We'd better go now."

Street kept softly giggling until Chris felt his hand losing the grip on hers, and he gradually abandoned himself to the dreamland.

"This was so weird," Tan admitted.

Chris could barely look at him.

"Well, at least he was happy. It's more than we can say he was the last time I saw him," Tan said, trying to match Chris's concerned eyes.

"Do you think he will recall anything from tonight?" she asked, looking back down at the sound asleep Street.

"Yeah, not a chance. He was really out of state."

"Good," Chris whispered.

Their eyes dwelled on their injured friend, then they both got out and left him to his peace.

Walking through the hallway with Tan at her side, Chris hoped she had not blushed too evidently at Street's words. She could not forget how she felt when he pronounced those love words, and she could not wipe his smile off her mind. Even though it was drug-induced, it was still a heartwarming smile.

"You think he will handle the therapy tomorrow?" Tan said out of the blue. "I mean, without ending up like this every night..."

Chris froze. She hadn't thought about tomorrow yet. "I can't see why not." She lied. "It's only his first day since he got back the sensation in his legs, right? The nurse said to give him some time."

"Yeah, I hope so" —Tan jumped in his car and waited for Chris to settle in the passenger seat— "I hated seeing him as we saw him earlier."

While Tan buckled up, Chris stood silent; her heart ached for her best friend.

_**... ... ...**_

The darkness of the night filled every corner of Chris's bedroom while she laid in her bed, not able to fall asleep. Street's words echoed in her head. "I love you," he had said. Alright, he was high on morphine, and he had said he loved literally everyone, but still, those words made her feel something.

She was always careful to never stop to think about Street's advances during the first few weeks they worked together. Chris didn't date cops, she made it clear to him. And he knew exactly why because she had told him everything. She always told him everything. Their friendship had grown so much since that first weird period of adaptation they had, and now nothing could break that. Plus, she had things slowly developing with Ty and Kira at the moment, so they have been over that phase. Case closed.

And yet, Street's words wouldn't stop resounding in Chris's head and bouncing inside her chest. Putting aside the fear, she couldn't help but feel relieved. It had been a while since the last time she saw Street so relaxed and happy. She knew it was for the drugs, but after the last few days, they had to take what they got.

_Drugs_... The sudden thought of Street's mother popped in Chris's mind. Street was not like her, and anyway, Chris would never let him fall into her habits. He was stronger. And he wasn't taking drugs for fun; he was taking painkillers to heal.

_Street must heal_. _He needs to come back to the team; the whole squad needs him back_. Chris sighed, staring at the ceiling of her room. She needed her best friend to be like himself again.

Those thoughts accompanied her restless night until the following morning.

_**... ... ...**_

* * *

**_Author's note: _**_Thanks for sticking around._

_I need to put in a little disclaimer, I'm clearly not a medic. I'm aware the ultrasound therapy doesn't work precisely like that, I just exaggerated the reaction from what I recalled when _I_ had ultrasound therapy on my ankle.  
Also, I never tried morphine, nor drugs, nor met anyone high. I know that it was some silly behavior for Street, and that probably a little shot of painkillers don't give you that, but as the nurse said, he was having a funny and unusual reaction that particular day.  
_

_About the love words... it is not a secret for anyone who watch the show how much Street is fond on his newly found SWAT family. The love is real, and that is true for any kind of love you want to believe there is between Street and Chris (I remind you that this story takes place around mid-season two, so no canon awkwardness had happened at this point between them). I know what my heart tells me about the direction I want to take, but the story has it's own life, and I don't know yet where it will go (I don't want anyone to feel deceived on purpose). _

_Anyways, now Street has more important things to deal with. Tough things... Stay tuned._


	19. Chapter 19

With his movements limited by the back-brace's presence, Street tried to accustom himself to a more comfortable position in the bed. The morning sunlight penetrated through the window, gently caressing his skin and instilling in him the positive sensation that it was going to be a good day.

The struggles of the first day of therapy were already forgotten, and he had no memory of the previous evening, except for the eerie sensation he had said or done something he shouldn't have.

A week had passed now since he regained the feeling of his whole body. _A rough week._ Street had to adjust to the new situation. He was still unable to master the full control on his limbs, but now he felt all the package of sensations: coldness, warmth, the gentle caresses of the nurses, the more vigorous touch of his therapists, the strength—or better, the weakness— of his muscles, and the ache of every single inch of his legs and back.

The tingling of his circulation resuming its course had slowly decreased, as had reduced the pain coming from his spine. And even if the main reason for that was the painkillers the nurses kept administering him, Street had to believe in the progress he was making.

_Whatever it takes to heal_, Street had promised to his friends, and he believed it. That was the main reason why he accepted the morphine. That and the continuous effort of the thoughtful nurses, _but he hated it_. Street couldn't stand not being in control; he was relentlessly torn apart between not baring the pain and knowing he was not feeling what he should have felt. Any path he chose, it would lead him to lose part of himself, and fighting that thought was becoming tiresome. But he kept fighting.

In the past two days, Street had committed to the new rehabilitation program with all his strength. Today, he had all intentions to continue and nail the next session, so when his friends would come to see him, he could show them his progress.

Nurse Cindy entered the room and placed a tray of food on the portable table.

"Oh, you have a little something on your face." She approached Street's bed. "No. I was wrong, it's just your mouth doing something weird," she mocked him.

Street snorted.

The nurse's eyes beamed genuinely. "I was starting to think you weren't able to smile anymore."

Street's look was full of positivity. "Isn't it weird?"

"It was about time, honey," Cindy said, lifting the back of the bed until her patient found himself almost sitting. Then she approached the portable table for Street to have access to his breakfast, whose smell made Street's stomach growl in anticipation.

"Hey, you want to hear a good news?" the nurse continued, "I checked with Dr. Bell, and he said tomorrow you can have your first try with the wheelchair."

Street chomped. "I will be able to leave the room?"

"We'll see." Cindy fondly smiled before she headed out of the room.

_We'll see…_ Street found himself unconsciously smiling and kept eating the hospital food with unexpected pleasure.

Once his plate was empty, Street relaxed on the comfortable pillow for a moment, then reached out for his phone. He checked the time; it was way too early for his therapy session. That would have felt good a few days ago, when he didn't trust all that much the new therapy, nor his own body, but not today. Today he couldn't wait. Bright side, it was still early for 20-David's shift to start, too, so Street could take advantage and exchange a few texts with his friends.

Grinning at the screen, Street heavily leaned back again and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his skin. Cindy was right; lately he felt like he was not able to smile anymore, but that morning tasted differently. All until his phone buzzed, and this time, it wasn't one of his friends. His smile broke.

—Sorry I couldn't be there for you Jimmy. You just tell me where you are and I'll reach you—

Street's little world shook while he stared breathlessly at the phone. _It was his mom._

Two weeks had passed from the day the bullet hit Street's back, confining him to that hospital bed, and it was almost one week since he had last tried to reach out for his mother. Those had been long days he had spent worrying for her radio silence. Was she insensitive to her own son struggles, or was she in some kind of trouble? Whatever version Street would chose to believe, guilt and inadequacy would strive his heart.

Right when he was starting to settle, right when things started to work out for the best for him, his mom gave him a sign of life.

For a very long time, Street had wished his mother could be there to take care of him, as a kid and even as an adult. _You are never too grown up to love your mom_, he used to think. But the concern she may have an ulterior motive to visit him at the hospital weighed on his heart more than ever.

Street shifted uneasily in his bed while the texture of the covers on his skin bothered him and the back-brace cramped his chest. Why couldn't he believe her love? Why would he have any reason to not trust her this time? He felt horribly guilty for feeling like that, but he was in no condition to be let down by her. Not again. And yet, the thing he desired more was to see her eyes glowing at him...

_**... ... ...**_

Tan was so intent on smiling at his phone that he nearly bumped into Deacon while exiting the locker room.

"Someone had a good night?"

"Street, apparently," Tan said, showing the screen to his friend.

"You too?" said Chris, joining them in the corridor with the cell phone in her hand. "He woke up chatty this morning. I'm wondering if that's anything to with last night…" She glanced at Tan, hesitantly.

Tan shrugged and sent one last text, then put his mobile away. As soon as Deacon had grabbed what he needed from his locker, the three walked the HQ corridors, meeting with Hondo and Luca.

"I don't know what they did to him," Luca was saying to his boss, "but I wish they keep doing it."

As 20-Davids gathered, Chris said, "That's because you didn't see him high yet."

All eyes converged on her, but Tan diverted the attention proceeding with the explanations. "Painkillers. But it had been a relief seeing Street giggling and smiling like that after all that suffering. Admit it, Chris, hearing him all sugary was quite fun."

Half-relieved looks shifted back to Chris, who, slightly red in the face, shot Tan a quick well-aimed glance, as to advise him to not report what Street confessed to her the day before.

"Guys?" Hondo intervened. "Is there something else?"

"I'm sure he got this," Tan said. "Why can't he be just happy and positive?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Street? Happy and positive?"

Luca smirked, putting his phone away. "I'm with Tan, let's enjoy our friend's joy."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Chris tensed up a bit.

"Street is stronger than he seems," Deacon said. "He's already proven it."

"For sure more stubborn than you can think," Hondo added. "And now, let's get to work, the city doesn't stop just because we do."

Confident smiles appeared on every team member. They decided to hold up to the last text they received, or at least to positive thinking, because what they wanted the most was go through the shift without any trouble and go enjoying Street's happiness with him.

_**... ... ...**_

Street nervously fiddled now with his phone, then with a plastic cup, or a wire he was connected to, or literally anything that came to his hands. His eyes danced from out the window to out the door and back. On occasion, his heart-rate went up, but only until he would remember to breathe deeply.

His mother would loom at the door any minute. She had just texted him she was almost there, and he didn't know how to feel.

Street coughed, finding a breath stuck in his throat. He was concerned about what he was going to see when his mother walked through that door. What appearance would she have? The one of a caring mother, or the one of a messed up junky? Street inhaled deeply, choosing to believe she would show up cleaned and well cared.

He chose to trust that his mother was going to be there to take care of him like she did when he was a baby. Street _had_ to believe that. He chose to hold up to the hope she would be stable and sober. He _needed_ to.

His phone slipped from his hands, landing on the bed. He was shaking. Street tried to compose himself, stretching his arm to recover the device, but the sound of footsteps suddenly stopping made him freeze.

"Jimmy!"

The familiar voice made Street look up. There she was, hands clasping nervously to each other and watery eyes on a pale face. They were a consequence of the emotional situation. They _had_ to be.

His mom approached the bed while Street shifted uncomfortably to adjust his position. "Oh, Jimmy, I'm so sorry, baby." She took his hand with her sticky and warm ones.

"Mom, where—"

She caressed his face, her eyes sparkling. "I'm here now, baby."

Street hesitated. He had seen that expression way too many times. Over the years, he had chosen to believe it was guilt, or genuine sorrow, or some kind of other selfless emotion. There was a time he would have said eyes close that it was love. But not lately. Lately, his mother had proven different… Street had felt betrayed and hurt by her, and…

But Street's heart was full now, and he was too happy that she was finally there with him to care about anything. His mom was there for him, and only for him. _She had to_.

_**... ... ...**_

The sterile hospital hallways welcomed Chris and Luca with their usual antiseptic smell, a thing they had to get used to for visiting the place so often in the last period.

For an instant, a flickering light drew Luca's attention. A little shiver ran down his spine at the sensation that the spooky atmosphere was not just a coincidence. He tried to shake it off. Street had appeared more than fine when they texted that morning, and the fact that he didn't reply to any text that afternoon could just be due to him being busy with rehab.

"I can't wait to tell it to Street." Chris's voice took him back to the casual conversation the two of them were having.

"Yeah, that's a good story." Luca smiled. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

It had been a great day on the job, and both of them could not wait to share it with Street, remarking to him that it would have been even better if he was at their side. But as soon as they got in the sight of Street's room, the two cops had to ease up on their enthusiasm.

The door was closed.

Chris and Luca stopped and looked around, but there were no nurses to ask for information. Then their eyes met, a hint of concern growing in both of them.

_It's not such a big deal_, Luca tried to convince himself while, again, that awkward sensation invested him. They both learned in the past few days that a closed door only meant a doctor was inside to visit his patient or that a nurse was there to take care of Street's basic needs, and a little privacy had to be granted. After a few minutes waiting there though, a bad feeling made his way to their brains.

"Should we knock?" Chris suggested. At that point, they both just wanted to see if their friend was alright.

Luca stretched his arm toward the door. The memory of the day he knocked on Street's bedroom's door only to find him hurt and lost on the floor fed his concern.

"I'm sorry, officers, but you can't get in." The clear voice of a nurse reached Luca's ears just right before his knuckles hit the door.

"What happened? Is there something wrong with him?" Chris asked, fear shining through her voice.

"Don't worry that much," nurse Beth said, "his body is recovering fine, but at the moment, he needs to rest."

Luca looked her straight; his instinct told him she wasn't telling them the full truth. "What's behind that? You have always let us in whether he was sleeping or not."

Chris's reaction to Luca's word told loud and clear she suspected the worst, too.

"Okay, look, Jim asked not to be bothered by anyone." Beth sighed, in her eyes, there was something that made the two cops worry even more instead of calming down.

"He_ what?_" Luca's eyebrow raised. "Come on, we're not _anyone_!"

"Jim made clear to not let a single person through, no matter who showed up at his door."

"Why would he do that?" Luca's voice grew acute while matching Chris' apprehensive look.

"He had a visitor this morning," the nurse explained. "After that, he demanded to not let anyone else in."

"Why? Who could visit that made him shut in himself like this?" Luca turned to Chris again, on her face, there was the expression of someone who thought had the right answer. "Are you thinking some therapy session with Dr. Wendy went wrong?" He tried to guess.

"I was not on shift this morning," Beth went on, "but my colleagues warned me about this middle-aged woman with dark hair and a little mole under an eye. They told me Jim had such an awful reaction to that visit that I should never let that woman approach him ever again."

Chris grimaced; the look of disbelief appeared on her face. "His mother..."

"That was _Jim's mother_?" Beth echoed.

Luca opened and closed his mouth a couple times. He knew about the conflict between Street and his mom, but he could not imagine that woman could create her son so much trouble. Not when he was already struggling so much on his own.

"Can you please tell him we're here anyway," Chris said.

"Yeah, I'm sure that if you tell him that's just us, he will let us in." Luca felt a feeble hope lit on. It was clear that Street needed to talk about what happened with his mother, and they were right there to help him. How could he dodge their offer?

"I'll try." Beth nodded. "Wait here."

The nurse quietly sneaked inside the room, leaving the door ajar. "Jim?" they heard her calling. "Jim, you can stop pretending, I know you are not sleeping."

The two cops sharpened their ears to get Street's answers, but either he didn't open his mouth, or he spoke in such a low tone they couldn't catch his words.

"Your friends are here" –Beth kept speaking in a kind voice– "the cute woman and the man with the big smile are right outside this door."

Hearing the way the nurse described them to Street made the two cops smile, forgetting their concern for a small instant.

"Can I let them in?" Beth continued. "But— Are you sure? Really sure? … Okay, I'll tell them."

Nurse Beth got out of the room in the same quiet way she got in, closing the door behind her. On her face, there was a dispirited look. "I'm sorry, but you need to go now."

"Oh, come on. What did he say?" Luca hinted a move toward the room, but the nurse firmly stopped him.

"He made clear he doesn't want to see _anyone_. Not even you. I'm sorry."

"Please, let us in just a minute," Luca insisted. "We'll make it quick, we promise."

Chris peered at the nurse intently. "We just need to make sure he's okay."

"That would be my job." Beth unsheathed a condescending, sad smile. "And I'm asking you to let me do it. Please, I have to make sure my patient's wills are respected."

"Yeah, okay… We understand." Luca glanced at Chris's submissive expression, then turned to the nurse again. "But let him know we'll be back tomorrow, and then we'll not accept a no as an answer."

"I'm sure tomorrow will be a better day," Beth said, hopefully.

"Thanks," Chris whispered before they went away.

Silently walking through that more and more desolating corridor, the two cops couldn't help but continually glancing back to their friend's room. Nurse Beth was still there, guarding the door and not taking her eyes off them until they turned the corner.

"I knew she was going to mess up with him again," Chris said, frustration in her voice. "We should have arrested her when we had the occasion."

"Come on, Chris, it would not be a solution for their broken relationship. You know how many troubles Street has in letting his mother go, he would have never forgiven us if we were the ones locking her away."

"I know. But this is too much." Chris inhaled deeply. "I can't see him like this for her behavior."

Luca shook his head. "Just seeing him would be an improvement."

"No, I can't," Chris said, turning back to the direction they came.

"Hey, hey! What do you wanna do? Sneak in without permission?" Luca stopped her. His chest ached. They were SWAT, it would be so easy for them to kick the door and loom in front of Street. For an instant, he thought about seconding Chris.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "We can't let him do this."

Luca sighed. "You force yourself in now, and you make him curl up for good. Let him sleep over it, we'll try again tomorrow."

Chris soundly exhaled, glancing now at her friend standing beside her, now at the almost empty hallway before her. Then she nodded, and the two of them quietly reached their cars.

The idea of getting in his empty apartment was not very appealing to Luca at that moment, but looking Chris straight in the eyes, he had understood the both of them needed some sleep. They needed to be prepared to address the following day.

_**... ... ...**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Author's note:**__ Thank you for keep reading, and thanks a lot to the ones who found the time to leave a review. A special thanks to Lalez for the help and support._

_And now, on to the story. We left Street in a pretty dark place, and the team on the edge, full of concern..._

* * *

In the cold obscurity of the hospital room, a shy ray of light made its way through the blinds. Street growled, keeping his eyes well sealed. As he was awake once more, he didn't have much choice on what to focus on. It was either the pain and guilt that followed his mother's visit or the voices insistently coming through the closed door.

"Street, come on! We just want to see you, man." That was Luca's warm voice, which Street's heart refused to let in while he painfully breathed at a slow pace.

Expectation spread in the room because Street knew Luca was not alone out there. When he had peaked at the ground-glass door, he had distinctly discerned three figures.

"Come on, Street, let us in!" Chris's voice came as a dart in the middle of his chest. Her tone was a mix of temper and concern, and Street could see the disappointment in her look as if she was standing right there.

Street shut his eyes tighter and exhaled loudly, but that didn't wipe that image off his mind. Had him be able to run, he would have. As far as possible. But he was trapped there, confined with his mind.

The straight but delicate tone of a nurse sounded barely audible, followed by a deep quiet. It was the apparent quiet of the outside world, but inside Street's head, there was a loud storm. The mistakes he had made, the loneliness he had caused himself, and all the bad things that had happened in his life were all his fault, his mind reproached him, and his heart felt that, too. His responsibility was the only point all part of himself agreed about.

_**... ... ...**_

The smell of freshly brewed coffee propagated in the SWAT kitchen. Hondo sipped from a steaming mug while listening to Chris and Luca's report.

"That's why it should be you," Chris said.

Hondo shook his head, leaning on the steel table. "I don't think it would make much difference."

"He won't dare to shut you out," Luca threw in hopefully.

"I won't be so sure. He's a stubborn kid."

"He's proud. And he's used to handle things his way," Luca said, "but we're teaching him what a real family is, and I'm sure he will listen to you if you insist enough."

Chris grimaced, her mind going back to all the times her best friend ignored his boss's wise advice. But Street had grown a lot since his attitude had him kicked off SWAT…

Hondo looked his teammates straight. "Won't be easy."

His words resounded in the background of Chris's thoughts. The time Street managed to be kicked out of their family it had still been his mother's fault. How many more times will she mess up with him? The conviction they should have arrested her when they had the occasion forced its way to Chris's heart again.

"You're saying you'll not pay him a visit?" Luca lifted his arms, dismissive.

Hondo turned to the sink and washed his mug, then, before looking up to Luca's waiting eyes, he glanced down at his cell phone.

"I didn't have any plan for the evening anyway."

Despite Luca's usual enthusiasm warmed up the room, Chris could not feel completely relieved. They watched their boss heading out of the kitchen; the fatigue of the day added up to the emotional tension started to weight.

"He'll have to listen," Luca said. "Street knows too well he needs to listen to Hondo."

Chris looked blankly at him. "Not when he's in self-destruction mode."

"Well, Hondo will not give him any other choice."

_**... ... ...**_

Street soundly exhaled, his eyes fixed out the window at the first stars appearing in the sky. Footstep approached, and the sound of another man breathing echoed in the air.

"I thought I had told the nurses to not let anyone in."

"I'm SWAT," Hondo said in all seriousness, "I breached in."

"I need to be alone now." Street voice let out all the cold he was feeling inside.

"Stop the act, kid." Hondo approached, the linoleum attenuating the thuds of his boots on the floor. "It has gone on too long."

Street snorted. His eyes never left the little star high up in the heavy-blue sky.

"I know your mother came to visit." Hondo placed himself between the bed and the window. "And you should know what happens when you try to do handle her all by yourself." His set-eyes insisted on Street until he finally looked at him. "I thought you learned something when I had to kick you out of the team for precisely that reason."

"I did," Street whispered. Then he looked away once more and exhaled loudly. "What are you gonna do? Hit a man already down?"

Hondo peered at him, his silence was heavier than whatever word he could have pronounced.

"I just need to clear my head, okay? I—I don't wanna say something I'll regret, nor put you guys in a position I shouldn't put you in. I need—" Street sighed while he forced himself to look at his boss. "I just need to…"

Hondo crossed his arms, his eyes penetrating deeply in Street's until he had to look away. "You need to talk about what's going on inside you. With me, with your friends, or with Dr—"

"Don't go there."

"Street, we're all here for you."

"It's—" Street sniffed. His reddened eyes went up to the ceiling. "I can't deal with it right now. I can't let you in."

"It doesn't have to be me," Hondo calmly said. "Chris is itching for talking to you. You know that. Literally every one of your teammates would listen to whatever you have to say."

"My teamma—" Street fought with watery eyes. "There's no team for me anymore…"

"That's not true, and you know that." Hondo shook his head. "But if you insist on talking like that, I can just send Dr. Wendy here."

"Please don't." Street's lower lip trembled. "I don't need her to shrink me right now."

"You have to let someone in. And if it's not us, I'll make sure Dr. Wendy pays you a visit."

Silence echoed in the room while Hondo kept staring intensely at Street, who instead kept his tears-veiled eyes up to the white ceiling.

Then a grimace drew on Street's face, he clenched the sheets and let out a broken sigh. "Can you leave me alone now?"

At that cold voice, Hondo's heart clenched. Frustration mixed with concern. He didn't know if it was worse to watch Street suffer like that while unable to do anything for him or to leave him there alone.

Hondo kept staring; it was so evident that Street was fighting to not lose it in front of his boss. Eventually, Hondo surrendered and decided to grant his man the possibility to suffer in private.

"I'm not giving up, kid," Hondo said before heading out.

_**... ... ...**_

There was a dreadful silence in the locker room where 20-Davids were preparing to start the shift. Tan continually glanced down at his phone only to look up at Chris with a dismayed expression on his face. As for Luca, he only waited for Evans to open his mouth and say something stupid so he could vent his frustration on him.

What broke the stillness instead was Hondo's arrival.

"Did you managed to see him?" Luca immediately asked, bouncing on his feet. "Did he tell you what happened with his mother?"

Hondo started to change his clothes. "He's bottomed up, but it's clear he's struggling." His stern eyes looked up to his men. "At least he didn't try to pretend he's not."

"We know he's suffering," Luca grunted. "Will he let us help him? Did he tell you what we can do?"

"Okay, listen, I couldn't make him say much." Hondo opened his locker, took out his thigh sheath, and started putting it on. "If there's no news by the end of the shift, I'll ask Dr. Wendy to stop by and talk to him."

Luca grimaced. "We can't give up on him."

"It's him that's giving up on us," Tan said.

"Maybe not." Deacon stared incredulously at his phone. "Street just texted me."

Relief mixed with surprise could be breath in the room while Luca, Chris, and Tan all reached out to their phones. Disappointed expressions told Street didn't reach out for any of them.

"He asks me to stop by _if_ I find some time." Deacon dialed a response, then put his phone away. "That's good, right? Not the 'if' part, but it's still a step forward from the current situation."

Hondo nodded. "Maybe he had listened after all."

"Yeah, but… I mean, why you?" Luca's eyebrow lifted. "Don't get me wrong, Deac, you give great advice, but I was expecting he would ask for Chris maybe, or me, or—"

Eyes converged on Chris, who had not emitted a single sound all since she arrived at the HQ.

"I don't really understand either" —Deacon shrugged— "But I don't care that much. If he needs to talk to me, I'm in."

"Good," Hondo said. "Because he needs all of us."

Silence echoed again. In the guy's looks, Luca could mirror his own pain. They all knew Street needed them; what they didn't know was how to show him their support while he kept shutting them out like he was doing now.

"Take a moment to clear your heads," Hondo ordered. "I want you in the situation room in five with your heads in the game. I can't afford to worry for another family member while out there."

Silent nods were all Hondo had in response, and while Evans cleared the locker room right away, the others stood there for a moment, like frozen in time.

Deacon was the first one to move, preceding Hondo out. Tan took a deep breath, crossed a concerned look with Luca, and headed out, stopping by the doorway. Luca nodded at his teammate, wordlessly telling to not wait for him.

The sound of Luca's locker door heavily closing resounded in the room while a million thoughts crossed his mind. Chris was so quiet Luca barely felt her presence. She had not kept her eyes up from the floor for more than one minute straight, and that was not like her at all. Chris wasn't one who hid in the moments of need.

"Don't bother it," Luca said, finally drawing Chris's eyes on him. "Deacon will put some sense in Street's mind, you'll see."

"I just thought he trusted me more."

"He does." Luca peered at her intently. "You know him, he's… stubborn. And proud. And he just doesn't know how a family works."

Chris sighed. "Let's go, Hondo's waiting for us."

_**... ...**_

Street took a deep breath and focused on the smell of grass coming from the open window. Sending that text had been surprisingly hard, and waiting for an answer was proving just as challenging.

That feeling reminded Street of his teenage years. He feared to receive a negative response. Even worse, he feared to receive no answer at all. He exhaled through his mouth, shifting his phone from hand to hand. He was not a teenager anymore, and yet, that feeling... _What if I ruined any good thing I had? What if I made the wrong move again? What if—_

The screen enlightened, and the notification of Deacon's answer popped up. Street's heart skipped a beat while reading the preview, but his lungs filled with fresh air like he had been in apnea forever. He opened the full text and smiled in relief.

—I'll be there. Promise. Anything you need—

Deacon would come to visit soon. Street tried to imagine his friend's reaction when he opened his text, trying to read a mood in his words. Doubts tangled his heart. _Maybe he said that out of courtesy... and what if he felt obliged to?_ Street shook his head. _Don't be paranoid. He cares and wants to help_… _He's Deac!_

Street put his cell phone down on the bedside table, but the stretching movement made him suddenly remember why he was in that hospital bed in the first place. He held his breath until the wave of pain passed, then exhaled loudly and closed his eyes, focusing on the scented breeze coming from outside.

All relaxed and with his breath steady again, a shadow crossed Street's mind. What was he going to tell Deacon? How could he express all his dark thoughts, and what could he ask his friend to make him actually help him?

And then, the door opened, and Leon was there. Street gritted his teeth._ Let's the torture begin…_

_**... ... ...**_

The thuds of Chris's feet hitting the ring resonated with the snap of the rope moving in the air and filled the deserted HQ's gym.

At that exact moment, Deacon was talking to Street. He was trying to understand what was going on and to force him to open up to his friends again. At least, that was what they all hoped.

Chris trusted Deacon completely. He had been like a father for her on multiple occasions, and she knew that kind of parental figure was what Street needed now, but still... why him? Why didn't Street trust her as much?

She kept jumping the rope until she was short of breath, and even then, Chris beat herself more. Lack of oxygen in her brain made over-thinking harder.

And yet… why not her?

Chris paused, breathing with her mouth. Her heart pounded but not only for the physical exercise. She was angry.

The realization dawned on her while she was drying the sweat from her face and neck. As much as she was concerned, as much as she hated the thought of him suffering, and as much as she was glad he was not alone at that moment, Chris was angry with her best friend. Angry as hell.

Why didn't he trust her? Chris kept asking herself while squishing a water bottle in her hands.

Halted at a red light on the way home, she hit the wheel violently. Why couldn't Street just take the phone and call her to say that he needed her? Why didn't he need her? She checked her phone to see if Deacon had some good news for her, or if Street himself had…

Nothing. Chris resumed her ride, frustration mounting more. Why did her best friend have to be that mulish?

_**... ... ...**_


	21. Chapter 21

Prickly air signaled the approach of the sunset. The quiet outside, Deacon noted while crossing the automated door, perfectly reflected the calm atmosphere inside the hospital. No nurse paid attention to him as he slowly walked the corridors. He well knew that path now, but his friend's room never seemed so far away.

No, no one liked hospitals. And even though in the last few weeks all 20-Davids became used to them, walking those hallway alone that late afternoon, Deacon felt particularly uncomfortable. All kinds of memories hit him while passing by those walls that had so many stories to tell. He was reminded of Annie's brain surgery, of the long rehabilitation she had to overcome, and of the terror that experience provoked in him.

Deacon stopped for a moment before crossing Street's door. He was also reminded of his children's births, and that was the memory he chose to hold up to. He held up to the joy and hope, even if mixed up with a whole bunch of new worries for the future.

The door was already ajar, and Deacon sneaked his head in. Street was laid on his side, staring somewhere in his direction, but it was like he couldn't see his friend entering his field vision.

"May I come in?"

"Hey..." Street whispered. "Yes… um…"

Deacon closed the door behind him. "I heard you are refusing pain meds."

Street grimaced.

Deacon peered through the semi-obscurity of the room. The air was a bit stuffy, and even though nothing was out of place, the room seemed oddly messed, almost like it would have been the room of a cranky teenager whose mother was not allowed to clean.

"Only the opioids," Street admitted coldly.

Deacon turned on the lamp over Street's bed, causing his friend to blink and let out an agonizing sigh.

"I don't want to" —Street blinked— "don't want to risk… I don't want to fall into bad habits."

"_Dependence?_" Deacon met Street's reddened eyes, now open and failing to hide the pain. "Is it what's bothering you? The reason why your mother's visit scared you to the point you tried to shut everyone out?"

Street shifted in bed as he was using physical ache to cover for his emotional sufferings. "Straight to the point, uh?" He utterly exhaled.

Deacon stared.

"I—I'm not _scared_…"

"Street, come on, you called me because you wanted to talk, right? Then talk to me." Deacon patiently waited, trying to cross Street's shifty eyes.

Street sniffed. The air was heavy with unexpressed emotions. "How can a parent take advantage of their own son?" he said at last.

Deacon flinched. That was it, the reason why Street wanted to see him and not another of his friends. Unlike anyone else on the team, he was a parent. Even though that was a role that didn't give Deacon any valid answer to that particular question…

"A parent should not." Deacon sat on the chair next to the bed to be at Street's eye level. "But, you know, bringing someone into this world doesn't instantly make you a responsible and selfless person."

"My mother had thirty years to practice." Street's hands clenched around the sheets. "Guess she just didn't care to learn…"

Deacon held back a sigh. "We see all kinds of things on the job, but it is different when they happen to us, right?"

"She was—" Street cleared his voice. "My mom— She was never—"

Discomfort grew in Deacon while his friend fought with his emotions to come up with a coherent sentence. If they had arrested Mrs. Street the day they caught her buying drugs, maybe they would have saved Street all this.

"Did your—" Street feeble voice took Deacon back to the present. "Did your children do anything to make you love them the way you and Annie do?"

Desperation reached Deacon's heart. There was an obvious answer to that question, but Street's eyes, hungry for an honest reply, made delivering it particularly hard. Anyway, Deacon decided to go for the hard way and shock Street out of his state.

"Did _she_ do something for making you love her the way you do?"

Street's eyes veiled with tears.

"Look." Deacon paused to make sure his voice came out as distinct but kind as possible. "My children are a part of me. I brought them into this world with God's help, and with God's help, I will continue to love them, and raise them, and be an example for them at my very best." He felt his words were hurting Street but felt as much it was a necessary sting. "You know, sometimes even my best is not enough, and—"

"What did I do wrong, Deac?" Street glanced at his friend with a helpless expression. "Why did my parents—" Street grimaced, looking away.

"You did _nothing_ wrong." Deacon had never seen Street so defenseless and lost. Everybody on the team knew his blood family and his childhood were sore subjects for him, but the few times Street had thrown in his birth parents and his foster care experience, he always seemed to have it all together.

Now it was apparent he had not.

Street clenched the sheet in his hands, the muscles of his neck stiffening. "Why does all this crap keep happening to me?"

"Hey, no. Look at me." Deacon waited until Street did it. "None of this is your fault. Not your injury and certainly not your parent's behavior."

It was only when the deep silence echoed in the room that Deacon noticed Street wasn't connected to the heart monitor anymore.

"My—" Street's voice came hard and cold to Deacon's ears. "My mom saw me in this hospital bed, and—" he snorted, shaking his head. "And she cried for me, and swore she would do _anything_ to help me back to health." His voice started shaking. "And I—I— I didn't see it coming…"

Deacon peered at him intently, trying to not wear his emotion on his face.

"She asked for money to solve a 'little thing' first." Street grimaced. "I just— I—I should have noticed she was jonesing. I should have imagined she wanted something from me, but I was—" he closed his eyes, pain cracking his face. "I was so stupid to think she really cared about me," he let out in one breath. "That she could love me like only a mother can…"

"That doesn't make you stupid, that makes you human." Deacon rested a hand on Street's shoulder. "Everybody desires someone who loves them unconditionally, and when blood doesn't come that far, God provides for an alternative."

A little tear escaped from Street's eye. His arm moved to wipe it off, making Deacon's hand to retract.

"We are your alternative, Street. _We_ are your family, all of us. From Hondo to Luca, to Tan, to Chris, and to me. We are all here for you. Even Rocker and Munford would be proud to call you part of their family now. You'll never have to feel alone anymore."

Tears now silently rolled down Street face. The flush of a million conflicting emotions colored his skin while he tried to dry his cheeks.

"Don't shut us out. If not for you, do it for us."

Once again, the audible silence filled every corner of the room. Deacon could see his friend fighting to compose himself and how he hated to show his weaknesses in front of him.

Street cleared his throat. "You're such a good friend, Deac. And a good father."

Deacon smiled fondly. "I'm trying."

The air was still heavy with sorrow, but it was a flood of emotions that had better been released than stored aside until it exploded with even more force and damage. Looking fatherly at him, Deacon left Street the time to come to terms with his feelings. The lamp's light underlined red marks and shades on Street's otherwise pale face.

The silence was broken only by Street's conscious efforts of steadying his breath until a whine resounded, and Street's body made a slight but jolt movement.

Deacon jumped to his feet; there was a different kind of pain on his friend's face now. He had almost forgotten how much Street was physically suffering, too, and he felt powerless. For this, he could do nothing.

"Maybe it's time to accept those painkillers," he suggested.

Street gritted his teeth. "No."

"Don't be irrational, you are nothing like your mother. You won't fall for drugs just because she did."

"You can't know that." Street bit his lip, trying to breathe with his nose, but eventually had to release another whine. "I— I said no!" His stubborn expression got to Deacon. "Please..."

Deacon set back on the chair and looked him intently.

Street clenched his teeth harder. "I'll be fine. Just go." He shivered while painfully exhaling.

At the sight, Deacon's heart skipped a beat. He wanted to do more for his friend, but he didn't know what. If Street was one of his children, he would have hugged him and comforted him, but he knew that if he tried anything like that now, Street would push him away, hurt in the pride.

"Please just go," Street said in a sorrowful sigh. "Staying here watching me won't do me any good."

"I already told Annie I was running late." Deacon beamed kindly. "I came here for you, and I'm not leaving."

Light moans interrupted heavy breaths while Street stiffened, his eyes well closed. "I'll be fine…" he opened his tired eyes to Deacon, determination mixed with desperation in them. "I just need to sleep. Please…" He hesitated. "I don't want you to see me like this," he admitted at last.

"Okay." Deacon got up, still staring at his friend. "Whatever you need. But remember, I'm just a phone call away."

Street nodded, his hands clenching the sheets while Deacon turned off the lamp.

With the hand on the knob, Deacon said, "What do you want me to tell the guys?"

Street swallowed, staring at the ceiling. "I— I'll reach out. I'll do."

In the poor lightening and despite the sweat drops covering his face, Deacon was sure he saw the sparkle of one more tear.

"Deac." Street breathed deeply. "Thank you…"

Deacon gave him a nod and a fatherly smile. _I_ _just hope I did enough for you, _he didn't dare to say before leaving Street alone with his darkness.

The fresh air of the falling night penetrated in Deacon's nose as he breathed full lungs. He turned his phone back on; as he expected, he was late for dinner, but Annie would surely understand. This had been more important.

Deacon glanced at the time on the screen; if he moved now, he could still make it before the kids' bedtime. He settled in his car and was ready to turn the key when his phone buzzed. It was Luca. He wanted to know how it went with Street. Deacon sighed. In the end, Street didn't tell him what he was allowed to tell his friends…

_**... ... ...**_

Deacon had left for a few hours, and Street had spent that time in the complete darkness, fighting with both his body and his mind. The smell of the now cold dinner bothered him to the point he put the cloche back on the still full plate and slightly pushed the portable table away while leaning back on the pillow.

He glanced out the ajar door, half-waiting for a nurse to come to reproach him or force him to eat, but there was only a deafening silence in which Street's pantings echoed dramatically loud.

His attention shifted to the obscurity hovering in the air outside the window. His arm hair stood up at the thought of spending yet another night all alone in there. Then his eyes laid on the food tray again.

This was different from two weeks ago, from the few days before he settled his mind to his new condition when he didn't even care to eat. This time, it was physical. From the moment his mother texted him, his stomach closed completely.

Despite not having a real appetite, in the last few days, he had somehow managed to put up the act and munch at least something, mostly to avoid the nurses' lectures. Tonight though, he just couldn't manage to force himself to eat anything at all, not even a single spoon of jelly. The mere thought caused nausea to strike.

In the cold, a warm tear rolled over his cheek. He was sick of crying already, but that was a whole new level of pain. And as if what his mother kept inflicting him wasn't enough, his back chose that moment to send him a shockwave, leaving him breathless.

Street had endured a lot in his life, and he had always managed to pull through all that alone. Of course, he had some help through the years, starting from Buck, passing from some extremely rare positive encounter in foster care, to end with the SWAT family now. At the end of the day, though, he'd always been alone, but nonetheless able to pull through.

With his hands gripped to the sheets, Street forced himself to take in a deep breath, counted to three, and exhaled loudly in a clumsy attempt to push out the ache.

How was this situation different from any other in his past? How could he let his friends see him like that? How could he know they will not abandon him when they see the truth of who he really is?

He couldn't. That's not how friendship works, and that terrified Street.

When the wave of pain passed, he was exhausted. Eyes closed, he massaged his tights, focusing on the sensation of actually feeling the touch. _But at what point?_

Street couldn't bear all that anymore. He was sick of the pain, of the slow progress, and of all his hard work and his sufferings being for nothing. Sometimes, in the long nights all alone in his dark hospital room, his mind went back to the days he could feel nothing, and he dreamed about the sweet silence of his limbs.

Now the tears poured copiously down his cheeks, for the realization he was ready to surrender. The loneliness he felt was not his mother's fault, nor anyone else but his. His birth family might be a mess, but the family he chose, the family that accepted him, had not abandoned him. Not yet and not in the future, he could be sure of that. His friends cared about him deeply, and they kept demonstrating it.

Street wiped his face with his sleeve. He had no more tears left for that night, and moreover, he could not give up just now. He could not let his friends suffer for him being an asshole. They cared enough to be hurt by the incapacity he had in sharing his emotions.

Street's heart was heavy; his stomach cramped. He could not let that weight rest on his soul. He could not let that new kind of pain add up to the sufferings he already had to overcome. He needed to be a good friend.

Besides, if he could just focus on someone else's sorrow and on something he could make up for, maybe he could start breathing painlessly again…

**... ... ...**


	22. Chapter 22

The hours passed, and Chris couldn't bring herself to go to bed. Rebellious locks tickled her neck, and it was only when a water drop ran down her back and made her shiver that she realized she scratched herself with the plastic gloves still on. House cleaning at 2 a.m. had not been a great idea.

Chris dried sweaty hands on her pants and moved to the window. She breathed cold air at full lungs and stared at the stars, wondering if Street was already sleeping or if he was watching the same sky as her.

The sound of the window slamming close made Chris's muscles tense. Street couldn't be staring at the stars even if he wanted to; he was stuck in a hospital bed. From his position, he could hardly see the external world, and even if he could see it, he was so buckled up in his sorrow he would not have even seen the same sky.

Chris hated when Street did that.

How could he pass from 'I love you' to 'I don't want to see you' in one day? She shook off the thought. Those words 'I love you' resounded in her head. She didn't know how to feel. What kind of love was that? They were probably both just confused. It was the same love she had for her cousins. Or maybe not… Her body shook visibly. She didn't want to think about that. Street had shut her out anyway, so what point was there in analyzing those feelings?

Chris hated all that.

She hated that she couldn't help Street, but also felt just like she should stop trying until it was him to reach out. If that was what he wanted, then that was what he would have. She would be there, silently observing, and at some point, Street would understand and come back. He always did.

When her phone buzzed, hope lit on, but it was just Tan. He had no news; he just couldn't sleep either. Chris put down the phone, then brought it up again. Her fingers itched, but she wrote nothing, and the phone was on the bedside table again.

She abandoned her weight on the bed. _Who am I kidding?_ She wanted to reach out. If not to Street at least to Deacon. She needed to know. Her arm stretched, and her hand clutched to her phone, but the only thing she was able to do was re-read Luca's text from a few hours prior.

A sigh full of frustration echoed in the room. Luca had spread what he learned from Deacon with her and Tan, but that had not been enough. Chris was still pissed Street didn't call her, and that thought kept eating at her.

She turned around uncomfortably under the soft sheets. This whole thing with Street had never been about her; it was not him betraying her, but her failing him.

Chris got up and wandered around for a bit before connecting brain and body. Sat at the kitchen table with a teacup in her hands, she finally texted Tan back. His reply was instantaneous, but neither of them shared what they were really feeling; it was not what they did to cope with fear and frustration. Small talk and being there for each other was what they needed now.

The one who needed more, who deserved more, was Street. But if he didn't let them in, they were powerless.

**... ... ...**

In a night that seemed to never end, the darkness in Street's heart projected on the outside. The blinds were well sealed, the illumination in the room turned off, and a crack in the door barely let a pale evanescence come through from the corridor.

An unreal silence wrapped Street's soul. No sound from the garden behind the window, no sound from the nurses in the corridor, no sound from the monitors beside his bed. Street had never thought he would miss hearing his own heart beating through a stupid monitor.

It was like the whole world was asleep, but Street could not join it. He stretched an arm toward the bedside table; his muscle ached, his back complained. The cell phone claimed it was right before 1 a.m.

Street's thoughts ricocheted inside him, weighted on him, strived him. He had not felt such a profound obscurity in a while, and that terrified him.

Although his mind made a conscious effort to fight with that fear, whenever Street managed to abandon himself to the sleep, his body would find a way to remind him of the struggle. All night long, Street woke up every hour or so, shivering and sweating.

Right past 4 in the morning, his shaky hand found its way to the call button.

The door cracked open, and someone entered the darkness of the room. The light coming from beside Cindy made her hair of a dark-golden blond. "What can I do for you, honey?"

Street imagined the smile on her face, vivid and real as if he actually could peer through the poor lighting to see it. _It was unsettling._

_Why did I call after all?_ Street didn't have the right answer for that.

"You can't sleep?" Cindy approached and tried to adjust the pillow under Street's head. "It's 'cause of the pain? I can give you a shot, just say your word."

Street shook his head. His sweaty hands clung the sheets; they were soft and warm, just like Cindy's voice.

"Let me help you."

_Help_… Street would have liked to be helped, that's why he pressed the call button, but he wasn't sure she could do that. Not without drugs and clichés. He laboriously swallowed. "May I have some water?"

The artificial light hurt Street's eyes, causing a moan to escape from his mouth for the surprise. Surprise of what? It was predictable that the nurse could not pour water from the pitcher in such a darkness.

"Here you are, Jim."

Street's tired eyes opened to Cindy's smiling ones as she handed him the cup.

"Oh, honey, this is not right." Cindy kindly dried his forehead. "Are you really sure you don't want anything for the pain, or something to sleep at least?" she added, taking away the cup and sensing his pulse.

"I'll manage."

"Listen—" Cindy peered at him, her look tasting like a mother worrying for his son. "I can't force you to take painkillers against your will, but if the situation doesn't improve in the next hour, I'll administer you a sedative."

Street did not have the strength to object while watching the nurse attaching him to the heart monitor again. The so familiar beeping, though a little too fast to be called reassuring, was comforting enough to make his hands unclench and relax.

By 5 a.m. Street was completely exhausted and so fed up about everything that he finally gave in to a deep sleep. A couple hours of much-needed silence of his mind.

**... ... ...**

Luca had never noticed how loud his neighborhood could be at nights. It probably was for the fact he usually was the loud one, playing video-games until late hours, or maybe because whenever he decided to go to sleep, the chances were he was so exhausted the dreamland always welcomed him quickly.

That night had been different, though. Actually, every night had been different from usual since the first one Street passed at the hospital, leaving Luca home alone. In the last two days, things had gotten even worse.

Luca could not relax; before his eyes, there was the image of his friend, all alone and miserable in a hospital bed. That feeling of powerlessness prevented him from going to sleep. And he could not pretend Deacon had not gone to see Street to put him on the right track either, so he kept texting until Deacon gave up and called him back.

Now Deacon's words continually resounded in Luca's head. He didn't say much, aside from, "Street will keep fighting, and he promised to let us help him do that."

Deac didn't want to break the confidentiality.

Luca understood, but still, he was dying to know what Street's mother did this time to mess him up like that. He was dying to know how he could help his suffering little brother.

That night had been particularly restless for Luca. He had tried with the pinball and with watching TV; he had tried to drink a relaxing tea; he had even tried to walk Duke at two in the morning, taking some air to clear his thoughts, but whatever he did, concern weighed on his chest.

Luca woke up on the couch several minutes before his alarm took off, not sure when he actually fell asleep. His neighborhood had finally woken up, too; he felt the voices of the kids and now and then some cars passing by.

Hopefully, that day he could see his friend.

Duke put his snout on Luca's lap, claiming for his bowl to be filled. Luca smiled at him, but before fulfilling the task, he enjoyed a little snuggle time.

After getting out of the shower, Luca wandered through the house with only his towel on, missing the days he had to take turns for the bathroom with Street. _Soon enough_, he thought, _we'll race for who will shower first soon enough_.

With the odd feeling he was running late, Luca checked his phone. A text message was there. Street's. His heart filled even before reading it's content.

**... ... ...**

A knock on her car door took Chris back at the SWAT parking lot, diverting her attention from the cell phone she was holding in front of the wheel.

"You got it, too?" Tan's muffled voice came from the outside while Chris unbuckled herself. "The text from Street," Tan continued when she opened the car door, "I just got one."

Chris nodded. The smell of motor oil permeated the air, and the chats of 50-David squad jumping out of their armored vehicle distracted her for a moment. Her phone weighed in her hands; she still haven't texted Street back.

Tan started reading what he received while they entered the HQ. "Sorry for shutting you out—"

"You two got Street's text, too?" Luca came almost running from behind them. "Deacon did the miracle."

"Not so sure about that." Chris sighed. "Sorry for shutting you out" —she declaimed by heart— "I'm messed up and—"

"—I hate you seeing me like this—" Tan finished her phrase, reading from his phone— "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm still not ready to talk."

"Not the exact words, but the general meaning is the same," Luca said.

"Doesn't seem exactly a miracle to me." Chris shook her head. Her text was slightly different, too, and that was a good sign. Street could have just sent everyone the same words and convince himself he did his job, instead, he personalized the messages. But that wasn't enough. Not for her.

"Then I texted him back," Luca continued, "and he answered me that he would need something from home, but he'll let me know." His eyes veiled with melancholy. "And he remarked I should not go visit for today. It felt a little like a low blow, but the fact he reached out is a good sign, right? At least I'm sure next time he'll let me in."

The silence grew heavy as they approached the locker room, where Chris changed in record time.

"You're too quiet, Chris. Did you get something different?"

Chris looked up to Tan's worried look and immediately felt Luca's expecting eyes on her. "No." She smiled weakly. "He ended the text saying not to worry, but…"

"Yeah, asking a friend not to worry when you're struggling it's like asking a criminal to not run from the police," Luca said beaming sadly.

Silence fell again, and Chris walked away head down until she heard Luca's voice complimenting with Deacon for convincing Street to at least text them. She looked back at the locker room door's closing, feeling sidelined for a moment.

Chris scrunched the cell phone in her hand. Maybe what she needed was precisely a moment alone; she still hadn't texted Street back. She didn't know what to say because in her heart, there still was the awful feeling he rejected her, mixed with the fear she would say the wrong thing and pull him away again.

After a moment of hesitation, Chris was at the gym, hoping a call would arrive to distract her from that weigh on her heart. The guys were still in the locker room, talking about important stuff without her. Or maybe not, they always took more time than a woman to get changed.

When her phone wavered in her pocket, an odd sensation pervaded her. Even before she took it out, Chris knew who it was. That feeling was guilt. Street was crashing his shell to reach out to her, and she was ignoring him. What kind of friend would do that?

—Please don't give up on me just because I'm an ass— she read while a heartbroken smile drew on her face —I still need you, it's just I need time too—

Hearing his teammates' voices approaching, Chris looked up. No one seemed to have received any other text, and that made her feel special, but then, a sudden thought hit her. If Street feared she could give up on him, it was because she let him believe that.

Chris's fingers typed fast —I'll be here when you're ready— was the best response she could throw out. Her heart pounded; she needed to be there for him. The realization she was really about to give up on their friendship terrified her.

"What's up, Chris?" Hondo's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Her whole team, Evans included, was staring at her like she had something on her face. She shook the feeling off because she probably had an expression she shouldn't have.

"Street again." Chris forced a smile.

"What he says?" Luca said, tipping on his toes.

Chris silently read the last income, and her heart clenched —please be safe out there— Despite his own struggle, he still worried about them. "Nothing," she said, trying to hide her eyes from his teammates. "Just to not mess up."

Luca smiled widely. "He's going back to being himself again, see? Whatever happened with his mom couldn't be that bad."

Chris darted an ominous look at him. _Not that bad? Really?_ After everything they went through in the last couple of days for that visit?

"That's not that simple," Deacon said. "I think a visit from Dr. Huges will do good to him."

Luca raised one eyebrow. "Don't you think if we send to him the department shrink, Street will close up again? I mean, if he feels you violated his trust…"

Deacon stood upright. "I think he's ready to work on a deeper level. Trust me, he needs someone more professional than me to sort out such things."

"I trust you, Deac," Luca continued, "but how can I know if you don't tell us what's going on with him?"

"Deacon won't violate Street's trust with anyone," Hondo intervened. "We know that, and Street knows that. If Deac says he's ready for Dr. Wendy to visit him, I second it."

Chris stood silent, still thinking about that second text she received, but Deacon's words had hit her subconscious. Right now, Street needed more than what she or the guys could give him.

They were not enough for him.

**... ... ...**

* * *

_**Author's** **note:** Thanks for holding up to this story and thank you so much for the support. I'll keep working to give you the best I can._


	23. Chapter 23

A captivating smell made Street's mouth watering even before he could be sure he was awake. He sniffed the unmistakable scent of toasted bread and sausages. Surprise jerked him awake; he was hungry for the first time in a lifetime. He opened his eyes warily, almost fearing it was all a dream.

Beth had his back at him, she was putting the cloche back on his breakfast after placing the tray on the portable table. The loud sigh Street couldn't control drew her attention.

"Good morning, Jim." She turned to him with an encouraging smile on her face. "Sorry if I woke you. I was meant to let you sleep a little longer, but you know, I have other patients other than you."

Street barely heard the nurse's words under the regular beeping of the heart monitor. His focus was on the smell coming from the food tray and the breakfast she had just uncovered again.

While Beth moved at the corner of his vision, the pale light of a cloudy morning filtered into the room. That revealed the clear sight of the almost burned toast, the tiny turkey sausage —disguised for a real one— and the white mountain of yogurt topped with fruit and nuts.

"Even though—but don't tell the others—" Beth placed the edge of a hand at the side of her mouth, whispering, "you're one of my favorite patients." She smirked, lifting the cloche.

Street couldn't help but smile while the uneasiness burned his cheeks. He didn't think he deserved any compliments at this moment, and feeling the nurse's kindness was unexpected and sweet, something he had never been used to.

"Since you're already awake," the nurse went on, gradually lifting the back of Street's bed, "I won't accept anything but an empty plate. We agree?"

Street's stomach growled. His mood might still not have been very high, but his body demanded nourishment to face the new, challenging day of rehab. And the smell was so inviting…

Plastic fork and knife in his hands, Street poked at the sausage a few times before deciding to take a bite. _Not bad…_ He munched meat and bread with an enjoyment he had not felt in days.

Street's muscles felt sore, but the pain in his back was not that terrible at the moment. More and more every day, the physical therapy was proving a torture, but he was improving at last. And since Deacon's visit the other day, Street had discovered how much a positive attitude can really do and how much the mind can affect the body. He well knew that one can't magically make the pain go away and the injuries disappear just because they want it, but believing he could do it and feeling he wasn't alone, this time, had made a huge difference.

Before he knew, Street had finished fruit and yogurt, too, and his energy levels, alongside with his mood, had considerably improved. The comforting beeping sounded regular and steady in the background. The empty plate before him seemed Street a victory while the dullness in the sky outside the window reminded him of the two days of nightmares he just left behind.

Like a cloud passing over his heart, Street suddenly felt his chest tightening and bad memories resurfacing, but a minute later, Beth entered the room with a bright smile on her face. "You're done already?" she said, pleased. "Good job!"

The cloud passed, and Street timidly smiled back. "I guess I needed it."

"Then you deserve a treat," she said and immediately got out of the room.

When the nurse got back pushing a wheelchair, Street's heart skipped a beat. As much as he was thrilled, he was also terrified. Leaving the bed for the first time in three weeks felt surprisingly scary. What if going around in that thing was his permanent future?

"Close your mouth, or flies are gonna get in." Beth placed the wheelchair at the bedside and blocked the wheels. "For now on, you're allowed to get off the bed for a little while every day." Her usual smiling gaze studied him for a second. "I was supposed to take you off later, but since you have been so diligent, I guess I can make an exception…"

Street swallowed. He'd dreamed of that moment so many times since he found himself confined to that bed, and now that it had arrived, he felt like it was the first day of school.

"Are you ready to try it out?" Beth removed the covers from Street's body and disconnected him from the heart monitor, which was beeping a little faster than usual now.

Street looked down. He was free of wires and tubes, no catheter, no IVs, and nothing else to keep him anchored there. The only thing that still limited his movements where the bulky back-brace. That and his muscles and nerves not actually moving like he ordered them and still aching in unexpected ways.

As the nurse approached him, Street swallowed again. His mouth felt incredibly dry while his eyes couldn't move from his lower limbs. Leaving the bed was trickier than he would have thought.

"Trust me now, Jim. I'm stronger than I seem." Beth helped Street in a sitting position. Her hands were warm and soft, laying on his legs to move them out of bed.

Street concentrated on moving his muscles and helping himself to sit straight, dangling his feet from the bed, but Beth's hand caressed him fondly, discouraging him from trying so hard.

"Hold completely on to me. Do not force on your legs or back." She placed Street's arms around her neck and placed hers around his waist. "Let me do all the work, okay?"

Standing up for the first time in twenty-one days was a big thing for Street, and even though it was just for two seconds, for passing from bed to chair, it made his heart race. His back was oddly silent that morning; he didn't even notice it before he'd actually thought of that.

When his feet touched the floor, Street head started to spin. He had a flashback of the night he lost the feeling of his lower limbs. Of when his legs had given up on him, and he had spent hours helplessly lying on his room's floor, feeling nothing in his body but pain and fear.

Street gripped at the nurse tightly, feeling an insecurity he'd never felt while trying to taste the floor without actually leaving the bed. When it was time to make the leap and lift his butt from the mattress, he hesitated. Only at that point, his back complained, but not too powerfully or too suddenly, and he managed to put the pain aside.

"It's okay, Jim." Beth's voice ringed, encouraging. "I know what I'm doing. Rely on me."

Street obeyed and leaned to her completely. His legs trembled like Bambi's in that sad cartoon; his feet scooted on the floor for those few inches that separated him from the wheelchair. He let Beth sustain and guide him, and before he knew, he was settled in.

A new perspective opened to his eyes, but Street was not sure if he liked it or not.

**... ... ...**

The sun weakly peeked from behind gray clouds, barely lighting the yard while giving Luca the impression his wristwatch was broken. He sat in his car and checked on his cell phone before turning the engine on. He was right in time.

The hospital parking lot was almost deserted when Luca arrived five minutes before visiting hours. He had seen all kinds of spooky places on the job, but that particular one, especially when seen from the inside of his car, seemed the scariest of all.

_Buckle up, Luca_. He picked up the duffle full of the things his friend asked him to bring there, closed the car door, and quietly headed to the hospital entrance. _Street needs you strong and smiling._

While speeding up the pace, Luca reflected again about what Deacon had told him about his visit of two nights before. _Maybe today Street will be more talkative_, Luca thought. At least, this time he was sure Street would let him in because his friend personally asked for him to show up.

When Luca approached his friend's room, relief filled him; the door was fully open. He cautiously peeked in, wearing one of his biggest smiles in the hope Street would gladly receive it, but the room was empty.

Luca's heart stopped. He glanced around, tightening the duffle in his hand, then glanced back outside, looking for some known face to ask for explanations.

_No. It can't be._ Luca came in all positive to help his little brother out of his misery —since Deacon said he was ready to be pushed out of that state— and now, something so bad had happened that they took him somewhere else? Somewhere where they could do him who knows what, somewhere—

The squeaky sound of the bathroom door opening at his back made Luca almost jump and promptly turn. Once again flooded with relief, he genuinely smiled at the sight of the dark-haired nurse pushing Street in a wheelchair.

When Street's smiley eyes, even though underlined by dark circles, met Luca's surprised gaze, Street's face flashed in red.

"Hey…" Street cleared his throat. The back-brace kept him sitting straight, well laid on the backrest of the wheelchair. The showy thing made the gown under it wrinkle on Street's torso, while his hands stretched it and tried to adjust it on his thighs.

Luca felt his smile fading at the sight of Street's thin legs heavily leaning on the footplates and his helpless feet wrapped up in black fuzzy socks, but he forced himself to keep it up. "Hey, brother. Good to see you."

The nurse pushed the wheelchair until Street was placed near the window, then positioned a blanket on his lower extremities. "Okay, half an hour, and you're back to bed. We can't put too much pressure on your spine." She peered at Street's demanding eyes. "Doctor's orders. You know that."

"Thanks, Beth." Street watched her leaving the room, his face still pale-red.

As Beth passed by Luca, they crossed their looks. In her eyes, he saw an encouraging light, or at least that was what he chose to see.

"So, wheelchair now?" Luca said as soon as they were alone in the room. "That's great."

"Yeah." Street rubbed his right arm with his left one.

"And the nurse pushing you around."

"Only to the bathroom and back for now." Street glanced at the bedpan abandoned on the bottom shelf of his bedside table. "I'm still not allowed to pee standing, but relieving in an actual toilet made me a new man." He smiled weakly, then cleared his voice. "She had to help me on and off, I'm still new to" —he sighed— "moving…" He cleared his throat again. "But, yeah, I didn't expect it to… well, it felt…"

"That's a big step forward," Luca added fearing his friend's happiness would fade going on to that path. _So that's it_, he thought. Apparently, discussing the small, big victory of going to the bathroom was less embarrassing or difficult for Street than addressing to why he shut his friends out in the last few days. But at least he was smiling, so if that was what his friend needed to talk about right now, Luca was there for him.

_He will get to it_, he hoped while going on with the small talking.

…

The pallid sun peeked from behind the clouds, not properly lighting the room but still giving Street the weird impression that Luca's smile was even brighter than usual.

That day definitely started with the right foot. At that thought, Street shifted uncomfortably in the wheelchair; that was not exactly the right expression to use, and if anyone else would have said it to him aloud, he would have been upset. Or maybe not… he was adapting, learning to deal with his condition. A _temporary_ condition, he had to keep repeating to himself to not fall back into the darkness.

Street acknowledged a ringing in his ears, and his head felt suddenly light. Could that sitting position be already messing with him?

"Oh, man, it's great to finally see you like this." Luca's voice brought Street back from his stream of thoughts.

Street now felt as if he had been frozen in time for hours; he hadn't even noticed when his friend had sat on his bed and wasn't actually sure how much time had passed since nurse Beth had showed him the wheelchair that morning. He adjusted the position of the blanket on his helpless legs, unintentionally driving Luca's attention on them. "Yeah… it— it's good to be finally out of bed," he said, now regulating the back-brace.

"Yeah" —Luca's eyes smiled fondly— "that too."

"Even if just for an hour—" Street cleared his throat, realizing a little late his friend was actually talking about him opening up to them again. "I'm learning to keep what I got."

"Even if sometimes it doesn't seem to you" —Luca made sure to look him in the eyes— "you got a lot."

Street had feared that moment since he first saw Luca in the room. He knew he owed his friends an explanation —that he owed them more than that, actually— but he couldn't bring himself to talk about that dark part of his soul. He still wanted to handle things by himself, fearing they would not understand or that he would scare them away.

"I know I do," he let out a sound breath, almost fearing to look up from the floor. "And I'm sorry if it seemed I don't appreciate what you guys are trying to do for me. You're—"

"We know," Luca said with the most understanding look on his face. "And I'm gonna make sure you'll not forget again."

Uneasiness flamed Street, and his body was starting to complain, too. He massaged his neck, trying to dissimulate his struggle, but concern drew on Luca's face anyway.

"So, pajamas and tracksuits now?" Luca said, taking the duffle bag in his hands. "You're ready to get off that gown?"

"Never been more ready. Even though they don't allow me just yet… But I wanted to be prepared." Street forced a smile. He should have known his friend better; Luca must have sensed his discomfort and changed the subject to keep his mood up. He couldn't have asked for a better housemate, so why had he been so scared to let him in?

While Luca continued talking about small, daily things, Street felt both blessed and melancholic. There was a hint of something in Luca's voice, the shadow of the concern he must have felt in the past couple of days, Street thought. But letting Luca in again, allowing his friend to see him like that, had been easier than what Street expected. If only it was that simple with Chris, too…

"You okay, man?" Luca's voice ringed distant.

"What?" Street turned his attention back to his friend. "Yeah, I'm… sorry, what were you saying?" He was uncomfortably sweated now, and focusing was hard. It crossed his mind that his autonomy out of bed was already over.

Luca kept talking and quite successfully distracting Street, but his head still felt light and his muscles uncomfortably weak.

Luca got up from Street's bed, looking warily around. "You sure everything is alright?"

"Yeah, it's— I'm—" Street massaged his thighs nervously. "I think it's just the time for me to lay back down."

Luca's eyes insistently peered at him; Street could sense he was hardly trying to hide apprehension, and he hated to that to his friends.

"You're really pale," Luca continued. "I'm going to call a nurse."

"I'm fine." Street stopped him. "Beth will be back in minutes, she already put a clock on this thing, don't worry." Frustration was mounting in him. Was it possible that less than one hour out of bed could take him there? Why did he have to be so weak in front of his friend? The day had started with such a positive vibe…

"Street, you don't have to—"

"What were you saying about the graffiti in the neighborhood?"

Luca hesitated, then sat back on the edge of Street's bed and resumed the talking. His eyes never left Street's, and he seemed ready to jump to his feet at the slightest sign of struggle. Street didn't pay that much attention at Luca's words, but he cuddled that look, putting aside the embarrassment for the longest minute of the day.

Then Beth arrived, pacing slowly, but when her eyes laid on her patient, she hurried to him. "Are you—"

"Never been better." Street forced a smile while trying to ignore the dizziness. "But it's probably better to go back to bed."

Luca got up and put the duffle he had brought to Street on the mobile table. "Is there something I can do?"

"I got this," Beth firmly said. "You should go now."

Pain crossed Luca's face, and that expression hit Street in the stomach. "She is stronger than she seems, you know?" Street nodded. "Thanks for the supplies and all, I appreciated your visit. I—" he said wearily, "I'll text you later, is that fine?"

"Of course it is." Luca approached him to shake his hand, and Street concentrated hard just so his friend would not sense the weakness of his muscles. "It has been good to see you, brother."

While Luca left the room, the exhaustion of barely an hour out of bed reached him at full power. As the nurse pushed the wheelchair for it to be next to the bed, the moment he would have had to get up for that tiny second approached, and Street, felt like his chest was held in a vice. He used to climb walls and drop through ceilings, and now he was anxious about climbing the bed…

**... ... ...**


	24. Chapter 24

The smell of clean propagated in the air. Street enjoyed the softness of the new sheets, the smoothness of his freshly shaven face, and the satisfaction of a full stomach. He _had_ to focus on those sensations to forget the night of hell he had.

It had been five days since he started to refuse the pain meds. It was the right choice, Street kept repeating to himself. _It's the right choice_, he told himself every time a persistent ache pervaded his body. And it had been because there were good days, too, where he felt himself again and where he could bear a little pain like the one taking possession of his body after a full workout in the good old days.

Street took a deep breath of the fresh air coming from the open window. There were good and bad moments. He massaged his thighs while exhaling with his mouth. He had to take every little positive vibe to overcome the terrible moments, the ones when the struggle was more real than anything else. Often, he had to battle with himself to not beg the therapist to end the session. More than once, he was about to quit.

But he did never give up. Never.

Street knew he could be strong. If not for himself, at least to not disappoint the friends who never disappointed him. The family who had been there every single step of the way. Even when he tried to push them out.

The buzzing of his phone took Street's attention to the screen. He smiled. _Speaking of the devil_, he thought. When they would come visit later —because some of them _will_ come —Chris hopefully— he wanted to show them that that was one of the good days, even though maybe it would not be.

Street yawned. He had not slept that much, but not just for the pain. _Nightmares._ Three times that night, he had woken up all sweaty and nervous for some stupid dream messing up with him.

In the first nightmare, he failed his rehabilitation, and while he was down and unable to move, his friends laughed at him. Once awake, Street knew his friends would never do that, but that horrible sensation stayed under his skin for a while before he could be able to shake it off and go back to sleep.

The other nightmares, the recurring ones, were about his mother… Talking with Dr. Wendy a couple of days prior had helped, but a single session could not resolve all Street's problems. And he didn't know if he was ready to resolve his problems, to let his mother go, especially while not knowing where she was and if she was safe.

But he could do nothing from there. Nothing but keep working on himself and trying to earn his friend's affection and respect.

So now, laid in his hospital bed with the smell of grass and leaves coming from the outside, Street couldn't do other than wait.

He eagerly waited for the charge nurse to let him have his hour out of bed so he could roam around with the wheelchair, even though he technically wasn't allowed to, not just yet. He couldn't wait for the physician to come and challenge him and even for the therapist to come torture him with one of the longest sessions he had ever taken.

He couldn't wait for his friends to show up, Chris hopefully… Street missed seeing her alone, and couldn't help but feel guilty for the distance between the two of them.

**... ... ...**

The hospital air made its way through Chris's lungs. While she walked the corridors at a slow pace, she glanced through the open doors, to the patients greeting their relatives, and crossed nurses and doctors too busy with their jobs to notice her.

Chris knew she didn't have much time left, but 20-David had a frantic shift, and she couldn't manage to get there sooner. But as soon as she was in sight of Street's room, she froze.

With an excuse or another, Chris had avoided to go visiting Street alone since he had let his friends in again, four days prior. They texted a few times, and she briefly saw him along with Tan and Luca the day before, but they had not been alone since before his mother visited him.

Now she couldn't wait anymore.

Chris glanced down at her left wrist, where a dressing covered her skin. That little accident she had while fighting with an arms dealer earlier could now be her free pass if someone would argue the visiting hours were over. She was basically a patient too, they could not shut her out.

But no one would shut her out if not Street in person, Chris was sure of that. Perhaps it was the fact that they were cops, or maybe the nurses understood how much this particular patient needed to have his friends at his side to overcome the pain… or they just liked Street too much, but for them, visiting hours did not matter too much.

Anyway, Chris didn't want to risk someone questioning her presence, so she took a deep breath and hastened through the last corridor, entering in Street's room without looking at anyone else.

Street laid on his back with closed eyes and hands carefully rested on his sides. The upper part of the back-brace peeked from a cover, a quite unexpected sight since the temperature of the day was pretty high.

Chris carefully sat at his side on the bed. Street seemed to be resting so peacefully, something he mentioned he didn't do very often lately, but she really wanted to talk to him.

_Really_ talk to him, face to face. She was still not sure what she wanted to tell him. Actually, she didn't want to say anything, she wanted him to confide in her like he learned to do as soon as he felt part of their SWAT family. _Of her family_.

Street let out a feeble moan, his shoulders shifting in the bed and his head tilting lightly; that was her signal. Chris cautiously rested her good hand on his wrist and held her breath. That gesture reminded her of that moment after the second surgery Street had when she touched his leg, and they acknowledged he could feel the contact again.

"Street…" she called softly.

He swallowed and clenched his hands. Chris found herself holding her breath in the await of his eyes opening to her.

"Street, it's me."

Seeing her, his features brightened. "Hey…" He tried to adjust his position in bed, and Chris could feel his legs moving, too.

She needed to feel that movement, she needed to see his smile.

"Are you slacking off today?" Chris teased him. "It's barely five p.m."

"Five?" Street looked around, then behind Chris through the door.

He seemed vaguely disoriented; if Chris didn't know better, she could say they started giving him drugs again.

"You expected someone else?"

He laid back, breathing deeply, and Chris's heart clenched. Without thinking, she scooted closer to him.

"Something wrong?" she continued.

"Shouldn't I ask you that?" Street said, peering expectantly at her.

"It almost sounds like we followed the same interrogation techniques." Chris knew exactly what he meant, but she couldn't tell him that she had feared to see him in the last four days. She couldn't. Not right now when he seemed so— her heart raced when Street took her hand. Now, she was even more sure. Street wasn't just asking of her dressed wrist, he was asking about her silence.

"I'm so tired…" He let out, his gaze seeking refuge out the window.

This time, Chris wasn't sure what Street meant. It was apparent he was physically exhausted, and after all the pressure and the emotional struggle he had endured lately, he must have been mentally worn out too… but could he also mean he was tired of her avoiding heartfelt talks?

"Oh, you still have visits." A deep voice resounded, drawing Street and Chris's attention behind her. "And I thought I was late," the black man continued.

Chris turned while Street retracted his hand like if he was embarrassed or something, she thought. The man couldn't have entered in a worse moment. She was about to force herself to apologize for her distance in the last days and for her inability to help her best friend when he needed her the most.

"Leon. One of Jim's therapists," the man said, shaking hands with Chris.

"Chris—"

"My best friend," Street let out almost in a whisper.

"Well, nice to meet you, Chris," Leon said, looking at her, then turned to his patient, "but I'm sorry, Jim, I need to work on you anyway. You know this is one of our last sessions."

"Okay, I'm—" Chris made a move to exit. "I'll be back tomorrow, or—"

"Wait." Street stopped her, grazing her hand before she was out of reach. "You can stay. I mean… can you stay? I'm not shy. And I would use a distraction. If you want..."

Chris's look shifted from Street's demanding eyes to the therapist's.

"It may not be a bad idea. It's gonna be an intensive session, and without the pain meds aid…" he nodded at them. "Maybe a friend is what Jim needs."

"Of course. I'll stay." Chris didn't expect that request after all the distance they put between themselves, and the pain, and his stubbornness, and hers... She was surprised but glad that Street asked her to stay, to witness to the therapy session. "I didn't come just to wave at you and run away," she said, trying to keep an encouraging tone.

Leon helped Street lay on his stomach and carefully took the back-brace off him. Chris made a couple of steps back, observing the scene. That was an operation the two of them must have done dozens of times now, but the grimace of pain appearing on Street's face made Chris's heart clench. She hated how she could do nothing to help him, and now she was starting to understand observing the session would not be an easy task.

Chris held her breath when the gown slashed open and showed Street's bare back. Shades of purple, blue, and green mashed on his skin. Her heart sunk. After all this time from the injury, how could the bruise still be that marked?

"It's not as bad as it seems," Street said between a deep breath and another. "I mean, not that I can see how it seems, but from your face…"

Chris forced herself to recover from the shock of the unexpected sight and smirked. "From _your_ face, it is exactly as bad as it seems."

Street's smile was broken by a conscious effort of relaxing back and shoulder muscles. "You still have not seen anything… are you sure you want to stay?"

Chris dragged a chair right next to the bed while Leon settled the ultrasound machine in place, disinfected his hands, and rubbed them together. "It's too late to change your mind," she said, sitting to be at Street's eye level. "You won't get rid of me that easily now."

Street's eyes lighted with relief mixed up to a little bit of embarrassment until they abruptly closed, and his mouth twitched. The therapist had started with the manipulation of his back, and the process was already challenging his patient.

"Tell me about your wrist," Street said between clenched teeth. "What happened today?"

Chris forced herself to not wear the concern and her own pain on her face and started to tell Street every stupid detail from when she got to the HQ that morning until the fight with the arms dealer that gave her the perfect excuse to come visiting him.

Street shook, his muscles contracting. "So I have to thank the bad guy if you finally decided to show up…" he said, breathing heavily.

"Jim, unclench. Come on, I'm almost done," Leon said, a reproaching tone mixing with encouragement. "We're up the ultrasound in a second."

Chris didn't know where to watch. Street's face was already a mask of sorrow, and it appeared the hard part didn't even start, and the therapist's hands moving on his bruised back were not a sight any easier to bear.

"I'm sorry if I didn't come sooner," she said, locking eyes with him. "But at least it appears I was right in time to keep your lazy ass on schedule on the therapy session."

Street was sweating, his efforts of steadying his breath were loud. "You always have my back…"

Leon's tool laid on Street's skin, causing him to flinch. Chris saw his face becoming even redder and the fatigue cracking his contracted expression. Instinctively, she took his hand, which Street was scrunching in fist right above his head.

"Keep talking," Street demanded between gritted teeth. "Please, keep talking to me."

As he squeezed Chris's hand with the little strength he had left, she resumed the account of the last few days on the job, trying to keep his attention on Luca and Tan's jokes and on the little details of the action they couldn't wait to share with him again in person.

By the time Leon had finished the session, Street was completely drained. He was all sweaty; red skin on his face, back, and even arms; he was panting and shaking… But he didn't let go of Chris's hand.

"Alright, you did great, Jim. The hard part is done," the therapist said, then turned to Chris. "Why don't you help me putting Jim on his back and then leave us a little privacy for the leg massage?"

For a little moment, Chris silently watched Street's face gradually relaxing as he started to catch his breath, then she nodded to the therapist and got up from her chair.

Leon directed Chris's movements as the two of them tried to make the process of rolling Street in bed as painless and smooth as possible, then the man peered insistently at her making her the sing to greet and leave the field.

"Text you later?" she said, forcing an encouraging smile to hide her distress.

Eyes closed, Street nodded, then looked at her, expressing all at once feelings Chris could not name. "Thanks," he whispered at last.

She smiled, nodding as well.

"Thank you," he repeated as she walked out.

Chris stopped outside the room, trying to steady her breath. She hated seeing him like that. She couldn't bear a single more minute of the torture the therapist was inflicting her best friend, but could certainly not show her emotions to him. No, she buckled up and was strong for him, letting him squeeze her hand, talking to him to keep him focus on something else.

But it had been hard.

Sitting alone in her truck in the hospital parking lot, Chris's heart still hurt, but the thought Street trusted her as much as to let her see him like that —suffering, weak, and struggling— was sweet enough to keep her going. Well, not the fact that he was as much fatigued and challenged, that was terrible…

But Street trusted her again. He didn't push her away, he demanded her presence. He needed her, and she had finally been able to help him.

**... ... ...**

While Leon vigorously massaged his left thigh, Street forced himself to concentrate on Chris's visit instead of the residual pain of the previous treatment. Did he really allow her to witness to the torture he was enduring? How could he let her see him suffering like that, struggling like that? And yet he asked her to stay, asked her to help him through.

The request had surprised him as much as it had surprised her, but Chris had accepted to stay to distract him and hold his hand. That was the only thing that kept Street going during the hell of the ultrasound therapy without pain meds.

The realization that the next time —probably the last, longest session of the hell therapy— Chris would not be around to comfort him dawned on him. How will he be able to bear it?

A wave of pain coming from his spine shook Street as Leon lifted his other leg to start with the massage. A sudden thought came to distract him, had he been selfish? Chris had been great, she had been supportive and kind, but the concern in her eyes, the distress on her face had been apparent to him even through the cloud of the incredible pain he was enduring. So, had him be selfish making her go through all that just so he could have some relief?

But Chris had been there for him. Street had read in her eyes that she was there for whatever he may need. They had been distant long enough, and he didn't feel ashamed or guilty while she was there, he felt safe with her. He always felt safe with Chris.

"Alright," Leon said, placing the sheet back on Street at waist high. "It had been tough, but you had been great, Jim." He smiled. "Did you do it just to impress that beauty there?"

Street was sweaty and tired. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding. "My best friend has already seen my best and worst, I don't think I can impress her any further."

"Your best friend?" Leon teased while putting away his tools.

"Yeah, at least before all this happened…" Street let out in a painful breath. There had been a time where he dreamed of more, but then they grew so close and in such an imaginable way that anything different would blow their perfect world… even though from time to time his heart beat in weird ways with her around.

"Well, you're lucky to have such good friends."

"I know..." Street coughed, and Leon promptly reached him with a cup of water.

As the refreshing liquid run down his throat, Street tried to let go of the uneasiness burning his cheeks. He was starting to be annoyed by that. He was used to be confident and strong, and now he was all that fatigued and emotional for what? Half an hour laying helpless while another man manipulated him and Chris held his hand? It couldn't be like that.

"Rest now," Leon adjusted the back-brace on Street's torso. "You earned it. And if the test confirms what I hope, tomorrow will be the last time you see my face."

Street closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the sensation the struggles of the day were finally over. "Is it rude to say that I hope so?"

Leon chuckled. "No, since I said it first."

While the therapist left him alone, Street found himself waiting again.

He was waiting for the nurse to come and refresh him; waiting for his dinner, and waiting for his back pain to settle. But more than anything, he was waiting to recover as much as to reach out for his phone and text Chris the most meaningful 'thank you' he could.

… … …


	25. Chapter 25

_Coffee_, Tan thought, heading straight from the locker room to the kitchen and ignoring anyone who may cross his path. It was fifteen minutes before the start of the shift, and he had been there for an hour yet, hitting the gym. He couldn't help, he had been startled awake by a nightmare early in the morning, and then he had not been able to fell asleep again.

He had always known police work was dangerous, and being SWAT was even a more serious matter. In Tan's mind, all those risks were well rewarded, and he had never desired to do anything else. However, since Street had been seriously wounded during that call, the peril had suddenly become more real.

Tan had been hit on the vest before and had witnessed others take a bullet and be less lucky than he had been, but he had always been able to shake it off. For almost a month, he thought he had succeeded in putting aside Street's injury, but in the last couple days, somehow, the fear had become more real.

The sight of his friend in the wheelchair had shocked Tan deeply, much more than he expected. It should have been an astonishing sight, the sign Street was improving, but it had not been like that. During all those weeks visiting him and seeing him struggling, Tan had been able to put a clock on his friend's injury. _It will pass_, he said out loud. _Street is strong and he will manage to pull through_, he repeated to himself and to his teammates. As long as his friend was confined to bed, Tan could pretend that Street just needed a little rest, but now… now he wandered around in a wheelchair, and that was way harder to ignore.

"_Why no one had told me sooner?_" The familiar voice surprised Tan as he opened the kitchen door a crack. It was Buck; his voice rang from Hondo's phone on the table.

"We thought he already told you," Hondo said.

"_Yeah, well, he did not. I had to learn it by chance after all this time!_"

"And I'm not even sure he will appreciate we did tell you now," Deacon added.

Tan silently entered the room and nodded to his teammates. It was a while since they last heard from their ex team-leader, from before he had left town about a month ago, a few days before Street got hit.

"_He won't appreciate it? I know the kid, okay?_" Buck continued. "_It has been like that all his life, he'd always struggled to ask for help, but he had always appreciated receiving it at last._"

"We noticed that," Deacon said, "We had more than some trouble convincing him to let us in when his mother messed up with his already critical situation."

"_His mother? Come on, guys!_" Buck's voice sounded seriously irked. "_Street gets hurt on the job, a job I put him on, and nobody thinks to tell me. And then his mother, the woman I arrested almost twenty years ago, gives him trouble and nobody tells me either? You got to be kidding me!_"

Tan stiffened. Before Street —and now Evans— he had been the new guy on the team. In a couple of years, he had learned a lot from Buck and had been quite disappointed when his friend and mentor had to leave his place to the green —and apparently arrogant— Street. He kept forgetting Buck himself put Street on the team and even more, kept overlooking the fact that Street and Buck had a long history together.

"You were out of town," Hondo objected, "there was little you could do for him when he kept his phone off day and night."

"_I would have found a way. I always did._"

Deacon sighed. "We just thought he should have been the one to tell you."

Buck's sigh resounded too. "_Anyway, I'll be back in LA in a few days. Until then, keep an eye on him for me, okay?_"

"He's family," Hondo said, picking up his phone. "And you taught us to always look after our family."

The silence fell heavy once Buck ended the call. Tan knew that his more experienced teammates were asking themselves the same question: what was there behind Street's refusal to tell Buck about his injury?

Suddenly, Tan's nightmares got, if possible, an even darker meaning. It was not just about getting hit, it was about needing help to get back on your feet —literally, in Street's case— and refusing to accept it.

But Street was tougher than that, Tan repeated himself while taking a deep breath. And he would be too if he ever had to face something like that. He would be, he had to believe it.

**... ... ...**

Street's eyes fluttered open to the afternoon sun. It had been a while since he'd been able to take a nap as fine as that one. He glanced at his phone; he still had about one hour before his physician would show up again for his PT. His muscles were a little sore already, but since Leon had stopped torturing him with the ultrasound-hell machine, the sensation was manageable. Although, Street had not decided yet if upgrading his sessions with Max to twice a day agreed with his no-pain-killers policy.

Adjusting his position in bed, Street decided it must. There were no other choices, especially now that Buck knew… How could have he been such a coward to not tell the man he admired the most about his injury? If only Buck had been there with him, Street though, things would have been different. He would have known how to help him with all the struggles —physical and not— because it had always been like that.

But Buck had not been there. He couldn't, and Street had chosen to not put that burden on him when he was so distant and unable to come back. It wouldn't have been right. That had been Street's excuse. It wouldn't have been fair to Buck, who had already saved his life countless times since that night, the worst of his life.

But now that he knew, now that Buck was about to come back to LA… Street thought about the phone call he had to face that morning, to Buck's voice, full of paternal reprimands, genuinely encouraging, and with a bit of concern. He had felt like a kid again, ashamed he didn't call him sooner but relieved that now he knew. That was what let him take the best nap since he had stopped accepting sedatives and pain meds.

"Glad to see you didn't lose this morning's positive attitude." Max's voice startled Street, deep lost in thought, and made him conscious he was smiling.

It had been a while since Street had found himself unconsciously smiling. That could only be a good sign, right? A sign he was going to crush the afternoon session and that tomorrow he will succeed again, and again…

"Ready Jim?" Max broke Street's stream of thoughts again. How was it possible that he was so ready to work and yet so distracted?

"I'm going to push you a little harder than this morning, alright?" the physician said, settling the bed to be perfectly horizontal. He then moved to uncover Street's body. "I need to try your strength and stability to see if, in a few days, you'll be ready for the next steps."

"I'll be allowed to abandon this thing then?" Street asked, looking down at his bare knees, which, peeking from under the gown, were almost as much as white as its fabric.

"Well, you'll need a tracksuit for hitting the hospital gym."

Those words left Street astonished. In the last few days, he got used to leaving the bed for one hour at a time, two times a day at most, and go around with the wheelchair, but he never actually left his room. Now, his physician was talking about taking him to the gym. It was a lot, but he felt ready for it.

"Alright, breathe in, you know the drill."

Breathing exercises first. As usual. Street felt like he had done nothing else all his life. This technique was a little different from the equal breathing Buck taught him to fight the fear as a child, but it seemed to work just fine. At least, he forced himself to think, when he would be able to run after suspects again, his lung capacity would be at full volume… unfortunately, he could not say the same about the rest of his body.

"And breathe out while you take your arm back to your body," Max recommended as they were about to complete the first few rounds of exercises, the easy ones regarding shoulders, arms, and elbow movements.

"And now to the tricky part?" Street smirked, feeling confident his back will not start to torment him again. After all, the morning session had gone smoothly…

"Who's all invested in the new routine already?" Max patted him on the shoulder. "Don't rush it. You know I'll not allow you to skip any step."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just… I feel I'm making real progress for the first time, and I don't want to lose any occasion to—"

"Jim" —Max locked eyes with him— "you had made incredible progress all the way through during this first month, and I'm incredibly proud of how you dealt with pain and fatigue."

_First month…_ Street felt the cold shower coming.

"And I don't want to turn off this fire, but you still have two phases of the rehabilitation program to check before you can be discharged and have a last phase as an outpatient. You understand?"

Street sighed, he didn't want to talk, as long as his body continued to send him positive vibes, he wanted to act.

"It means weeks. A whole month at least."

_Another month like that? Another month… _Street's hands scrunched the sheet underneath him. Max clearly noticed that, and Street immediately unclenched. He couldn't let that thought extinguish is flame, like the therapist called it.

"Jim, you're doing great," Max continued in an encouraging voice. "Baby steps are what your body needs to come back at full power, without permanent consequences. You think you can do that?"

"I can do anything."

"Good." Max smiled. "Then bend your right foot."

After a few repetitions of bending, unbending, lifting, lowering, and moving the legs to the side one at a time, it came yet another round of deep breathing. Street hated to admit it, but he needed those. His calves and his thighs were already sore and fatigued, and his back was starting to give signs of stress, and he knew it was not the end yet.

"Alright, good job. The fun part now, are you ready?" Max said, checking on the position of the back-brace. "Any pain? Anything I need to know?"

Street's face was sweaty and his cheeks were flamed, but he just shook his head. "I'm ready."

"Lean on your elbows and flex the upper part of your back. Let me see those abs contracting."

Street followed the instructions, fighting with himself to not show the physician how much he was struggling. He was stronger than he seemed, his back was not nearly as bad as one week ago. He could do it.

"Perfect." Max checked again on his patient's torso. "Keep breathing, and let's go on. Hands on your hips and pretend to walk very slowly." He put one hand on Street's knee. "One foot at a time, no exceptions."

_Pretend to walk. _That was the most frustrating exercise in his routine, but one of the most challenging, too. How could he struggle that much just to_ pretend_ to walk? He hated that, but still, Street didn't stop until the physician gave him the signal.

And then it was the turn to make his abs work again. While he fatigued to lift head and shoulders from the bed, Street thought nostalgic about the six-pack he proudly worked on before all that happened. There was the gown now, and the brace blocking his view, but from the ache and the weakness of his muscles, he knew he would have to re-start on that from the beginning.

"Good job, buddy. Come on, one last series. Raise your leg straight and keep it half-high until I say so."

Street obeyed. His body started to shake and his muscles to burn while he forgot to breathe.

"Keep it up. Come on, you can do it. And—"

Street loudly exhaled before Max could finish his phrase, and slowly lowered his leg.

"It's okay. You're doing great."

Street finished his repetition and went on with the other leg. Frustration slowly mounted in him, but he fought it. Baby steps, the physician had said. That was what his body needed, and that was what his mind must adapt to. He could do it.

Leaving him, Max had a satisfied expression, and Street must have had one too. At least he felt he should. Only one week ago, the therapist's positive attitude and his unconditioned support would have irked Street as much as making twice as difficult for him to complete the session, but that day, it was what he needed.

Waiting for the nurse to come and take care of all the sweat and the signs all that work had left on his body, Street kept going with the breathing exercises. Despite the soreness, the weakness, the burning in his muscles, and the difficulty of concentration he now had, he felt relaxed. And despite the back pain and feeling all shaky, Street was hungry.

A few minutes later, the vision of the black-haired nurse coming to the aid was the sweetest of all.

**... ... ...**

Tan wearily opened his apartment door. The shift had been unusually dull, the highlight of the day had been seeing Luca crashing a driving test and beating Evans on every level. That moment and Hondo and Deacon's phone call with Buck he'd overheard.

All day long, Tan had kept thinking about Street and the risks them as cops face every day. He was extremely happy with his job and wouldn't change it for anything in the world; every risk was worth the hassle, but still… he couldn't believe how much seeing Street in a wheelchair had shocked him.

His day had ended just like it started: in the gym. So now, despite the shift had been flat, he was exhausted, and when Luca had invited them at his home for a beer, Tan had to find an excuse for not going. He knew that he should really catch up on sleep, hoping he would not have the same nightmares of the night before.

The musky smell of his shower gel propagated in his bathroom along with the steam from the shower. Tan took long, deep breaths and relaxed. Less than fifteen minutes later, while settling on the couch with the leftovers of the Indian takeaway of two days prior, he felt like that monotonous day would have never ended.

He was surfing the TV stations when his phone buzzed on the coffee table. It was Street, answering the text he sent him a few hours prior. He had been busy with therapy, he said. The physician had worked him up and down, apparently, and Street admitted to him that despite the exhaustion and the residual pain, he had not been that satisfied in a lifetime.

Tan smiled at the screen. Street had everything under control. He would abandon the ominous wheelchair in no time. What had he been worried about?

The two exchanged a few more texts until Street stopped getting back to him. After a while, Tan shook his head, smiling while imagining his friend falling asleep with his phone in the hands. He got up and headed to his bedroom, confident that if Street would sleep like a baby like he imagined him doing, he could too.

**... ... ...**


	26. Chapter 26

Street licked his sore lips. Before his mind was fully awake, it registered a presence in the room. It had often happened in the last month that a nurse, a doctor, or one of his therapists had awakened him —by mistake or on purpose— but somehow, this sensation was rather different.

Street felt insistently observed but not quite much uncomfortable. The other person that must have been in the room made him nervous, but at the same time, his presence calmed him.

When his eyes adjusted to the morning light that filtered through the half-lifted blinds, Buck's insistent stare reached his conscience. Street smiled—one of those broad smiles that masqueraded a certain uneasiness and embarrassment.

"If you think you can get away with this that easily, Jimmy," Buck said as serious as ever, "you are so wrong." His eyes shifted from Street to the wheelchair next to the bed and to the back-brace laid on it.

"It's not as bad as it seems," Street rushed to say while enjoying every second out of that bulky, uncomfortable thing. He felt lucky since they started to allow him to sleep freely a few nights ago, and he gladly learned that there was no going back. In no time, he hoped, he would use the brace only when standing because, in no time, he would start standing again on his own two legs.

"The guys told me it was even worst." Buck's grimace tore Street from his thoughts.

He tried to relax his muscles, glancing up to the ceiling before meeting Buck's severe gaze again. By now, he knew like the back of his hand every stain in the white and every corner of the room.

"It was what it was," Street said at last, then let out a sigh, unsure of how to go on. "But now I'm fine. I mean" —he shrugged, immediately regretting the gesture— "I'll be fine."

Buck's lips pursed, his eyes never left Street's.

"I'm sorry." Street breathed deeply. "I'm sorry if I didn't tell you, I just… I thought I could handle it, that I could do it alone."

"Thank God you were not alone, Jimmy." Buck settled in the chair near the bed, it seemed as if his legs gave way. "I was sure I taught you something in the last twenty years."

"Yeah…"

"And I would have helped you like I always did, kid." His tone was fully reproaching now. "You know that. You know."

"You always did," Street admitted, feeling shame and guilt seize him. "And I'll be forever grateful for that, but I'm not a kid anymore, and it wasn't fair to put all this on you." He took courage and looked straight at Buck. "What would you have done? Drop everything and rush here just to hold my hand? I couldn't let you do that. I wouldn't have forgiven myself for that."

Buck grimaced again. He was a man of action, and despite having talked Street out of multiple situations in the past, words were not exactly his forte. "You're such a mule. I wish I could be your commanding officer to teach you something."

His expression was more than explicit, and Street suddenly understood. "It was not your fault, Buck. I knew what I was signing up for when I became a cop, and I can't be more thankful and indebted to you for putting me on 20-David team. For making me part of this family."

Buck loudly exhaled, his dark eyes always fixed on Street. "Then why do you keep refusing to let your friends help you?"

Street huffed. "It's been precisely a month since I got shot, and I'm still not allowed to pee standing, or to stand at all." He felt frustration mounting in him at the thought of all the things he couldn't do anymore. "Do you think it's easy to let someone see me like this?"

"I know that—"

"Do you think they will trust me again on the job after seeing me… after…" he shook his head, and his voice went from shaky to cold. "_If_ I'll be ever able to go back to the team."

Buck opened his mouth, but Street preceded him again.

"I know you well enough to be sure you would think the same if you were in my condition."

"And _I_ know _you_ better than this to believe there isn't more. Don't forget I can always tell when you're scared, Jimmy. Come on, it's me, spit it up."

Street scoffed, looking up while trying to bury himself into the bed. Buck was right. He always was. But how could he tell him everything he had inside when he couldn't wholly understand himself?

"I heard your mother is back."

Street's heart skipped a beat. "What did you hear?" He hated the idea that Deacon had told him everything, but he could forgive _him_ for doing that. After all, they were a family, they were just worried, and sharing information was what they did… What Street feared the most was that it had been Dr. Wendy to break the confidentiality, that he trusted the wrong person, that he— but she would never. She would never, he just knew.

"What did they tell you?" He insisted.

"Only that she messed you up as usual. Nothing more." Buck put a hand on Street's shoulder, probably perceiving how agitated he was getting, and the touch indeed helped him calm down. "You should have called me for that. You know I can handle her."

Street swallowed. His mind went back to the night he first met Buck. That was the night he told him the truth, giving him a reason to arrest his mother. Street wondered with pain if he had made the right choice back then. If he would have done that again after seeing what came from it. If he would be able to do it right now, for his mother's sake, despite everything they went through for each other, after everything she had done for and to him.

But Buck went on talking, revealing a secret his friends had kept from him for weeks. They had busted his mother buying drugs during an official operation, letting her go without any consequence. Just for him. If he still was connected to the monitors, Street thought, by now they would be sending all kinds of alarms. His friends chose to not arrest his mother because they didn't want to add that to the bill of his sufferings.

They broke their integrity _for him_…

Street's head was spinning. Did they make the right decision? Was it for his best? Had it helped or just worsen his mother's situation? How did that choice weigh on their conscience? They knew he would suffer from her arrest; they thought he would be mad at them. Of course he would have been, she was still his mother, but… but, at last, he would have understood; Street was more certain of that every second that passed.

Knowing what he knew now, feeling what he felt now after his mother's visit… Street just knew he would have understood at last and be grateful to his friends for taking care of him and his family business.

But what if his mom wasn't safe now. Would she have been safer in jail than out on the streets? What if his friends' consideration for his feelings had pushed her down a dead-end road? The breath stuck in Street's throat, but he couldn't blame them for not making that choice. They did what they thought best for him; how could they know what his mother would do next? How could they know how selfish and erratic she was?

"Jimmy." Buck's voice pierced through the rising panic; his massage on Street's shoulder brought him back to reality. "Jimmy, are you still with me?"

"Find her," Street said almost in a beg.

Buck raised his eyebrows.

"You said you wanted to help me?" he continued with a sense of urgency. "Then find her. I need to know if she's okay because if she's not…"

"Are you sure of what you're asking?" Buck peered at him intently. "If I find her, I won't give her another chance."

"I know." Street closed his eyes, trying to gain back an apparent staidness. "She had already violated parole, she had already…" He now looked Buck in the eyes, prayerful. "It's just a matter of time before she ends up in serious trouble, before she… I can't, Buck, I can't, and you already put her behind bars once. I won't blame you."

A brief silence seized the room while they stared at each other. Buck's expression was grave but failed to cover his concern.

"And neither blame yourself?"

Street soundly exhaled, not able to answer his friend. How could he not blame himself? It all started from him not fulfilling his mother's request…

**... ... ...**

Luca, Tan, and Chris patiently waited outside the room as the nurse took care of their friend, who apparently had recently completed a session of physical therapy. The typical smell permeating the walls and the dull lights made the atmosphere slightly unpleasant, but it didn't seem a busy night on the ward, and the expression of the dark-blond-haired woman crossing them while exiting the room was calm and condescending.

Luca beamed at her, holding the paper bag in his hands, and she nodded. His smile grew even wider, but not as broad as Street's when he smelled the pizza his friend had brought him.

He was sitting in his wheelchair, his hair all messy but his face relaxed. He was playing with the blanket's extremity on his lap; instead of the usual gown, under the back-brace, he was wearing a dark-green t-shirt, meaning he was finally allowed to put on the clothes Luca had brought him a few days before. After a whole month, it was about time, Luca thought.

That vision instantly warmed up the atmosphere.

"Tell me that's for me, I'm starving," Street said, eyes glued to Luca's hands and to the paper bag in them.

The other three chuckled, crossing a 'he's back' look.

"You sure this won't ruin your appetite for the gourmet dinner you'll have later?" Luca said, pretending to hide the bag behind his back.

"First, the food is not that bad here," Street said, countering his friends' disbelief with a smile. "Okay, maybe a little flavorless, but…" he cautiously worked on his arms to approach the wheelchair to where Luca was standing. "And second, give me the pizza, or you'll have to deal with me."

"Oh, you'd better give up," Chris said in a severe tone before letting a smirk appear on her face. "He seems pretty serious to me."

"Okay, okay, you won." Luca chuckled, handing the paper bag to Street. What a change from a couple of weeks ago when he first tried to sneak some food inside the hospital, he thought. What a difference since the dark moment Street had just a few days after that failed attempt.

Street seemed so confident now, he was so secure in his movements with the back-brace on and the wheelchair carrying him around. Luca observed him attentively as he worked his way to the warm slice. A flash of embarrassment had crossed Street features when his movements across the room had driven his friends' attention to the way he handled the wheelchair. However, he seemed content of it, even proud maybe. If it was a good thing that Street was getting so used the chair or not, Luca still had to decide upon it.

The sound of munching and crunching was sweet to the ears, and Luca observed his other two friends settling in the room. Chris took place in a chair next to where Street had placed himself while Tan casually sat on the bed. The former was smiling at their friend's greed with the food, but the latter seemed to have noticed something in Street that they had missed.

"Thank you, guys," Street said, chewing the last bite. "I love you for this" —another flash of embarrassment crossed his face— "for all this, for all you keep doing for me."

The look Tan and Chris exchanged and the pale redness on her face made Luca feel like he, once again, had missed something. But all his friends' expression let joy shine through, and he couldn't hold back his own delight.

Tan nodded to Street. "Don't mention it, brother. We're here for you."

"Yeah, that's what family is for," Luca added, all smiles, but Street's face darkened for an instant before he could take back the control on his emotions.

Street took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't know what I would have done if Buck didn't put me on the team."

"He chose every single one of us," Chris said, sending another accomplice glance at Tan. "He built this family with his own hands."

"Yeah," Tan continued, "at the beginning you were like the weird uncle nobody wanted to deal with, but then—"

"Ouch!" Street faked a hurt expression.

"Speaking of Buck," Luca jumped in. "I heard he is back in town, did you—"

"He was here this morning," Street rushed to say. "Wasn't pleased I didn't call him, but he's Buck" —he smirked, but Luca had the impression it was one of his dimples-underlined-smirks that hid for deeper feelings— "and I know he loves me."

"Who doesn't?" Tan said, and Luca noticed another cryptic look between him and Chris. Was it because he was older than the other three, or were they hiding something from him? The thought crossed his mind very briefly because the chuckles and jokes they kept exchanging didn't leave space for concern.

**...**

Later that night, while driving home, Luca acknowledged he had not spent such a good night as that one in a while; surely, neither Street had. Seeing his friend finally recognizing the progress he was making, watching him comfortable in his skin again, and being able to share that light moment with him had been simply amazing.

Chris and Tan had felt exactly the same, as they had revealed to him at the bar after the nurse had kicked them out of Street's room. They had been there for about an hour, discussing their friend's optimistic attitude and focusing on the bright side only. Once alone in his truck, though, Luca looked back at the past evening, and the sensation he had missed something dawned on him. The feeling didn't come from the accomplice looks between his other two teammates, but more from the inquiring glances they both threw at Street at times and about the expressions the latter had not been able to hide from them when he probably didn't think to be observed. Tan or Chris may know something more, but neither of them had dared to raise the subject at the bar.

He was just being paranoid, Luca said to himself while inserting the key and opening his door. It was because, in the last month, every good day had been followed by a darker period. And it happened every time. This was his subconscious fearing the next relapse.

Maybe.

Or maybe the shadow Luca saw crossing Street's eyes a couple times during the evening was real. The mention of Buck and the first time he said the word 'family' had shaken his friend's mood, Luca was quite sure of that.

Something wasn't quite right. Street had done his best to hide his reaction, and Luca had not put much attention to it at the moment, but thinking back now…

He was just being paranoid, Luca repeated himself. That broad smile Street had on his face the majority of the time said that everything was okay. He had to believe that; there was no mean in worrying for nothing.

**... ... ...**

**Author's note: **Thank you so much for still being here with me. I hope you're enjoying the journey.

Between progress with his therapy, enjoying his friends' presence, and worrying for him mom Street is still fighting to find his balance and has no intention to give up or cut bait on his recovery.

Unfortunately, my heart and mind had been hijacked by my other story, 'Meant to Be' and another couple of new projects within the SWAT fandom, so I feel I can't concentrate on this story right now. Don't fear though, I already have ideas for following chapters and I know exactly where I want to go with this story. I just don't have the right concentration or dedication to this particular project right now, but I assure you I have no intention to abandon it.

Until next time, thank you for your patience.


End file.
